


Androids and Men

by CrownPrincessMoon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Badass Connor, Badass North, Bodyguard, But They Eventually Do, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Feels Pain, Connor Deserves Happiness, Emotions, F/F, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I don't know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Is Connor A Deviant?, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Jericho Squad, Jericho Squad Doesn't Like Connor At First, M/M, Mystery, OCD Connor, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Romance, Slow Burn, why not?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownPrincessMoon/pseuds/CrownPrincessMoon
Summary: Nearly a year after the Deviant Demonstration,Markus, deviant leader turned android ambassador, continues to push for android rights while balancing his social and personal life. Unfortunately, attacks targeting androids and their sympathizers are leaving everyone on edge.Meanwhile, Connor still struggles to accept his deviancy.After what happened with the Amanda AI, Connor wonders if he can even trust his own mind.To distract from his fears, he tries to lose himself in his new life; living alongside Hank and Sumo while investigating a disturbing pattern of suddenly homicidal androids.His latest assignment places him as head of Markus' security detail after the Deviant Leader is targeted by the mysterious assailant.Only this mission is different.He didn't expect to find Markus so...distracting.As deviant hunter, and leader grow closer, so does the danger around them, and at the end of the day, their worst enemies may be closer than they think.





	1. Little, Black Lines -- CONNOR

**Author's Note:**

> I _love_ Detroit: Become Human, and though I haven't gotten it yet, all the playthroughs I've watched are absolutely gorgeous! 
> 
> I can't get this fandom (game?) out of my head and after reading some works, I've decided to write my own. I'll try to update when I have the time.
> 
> Hope You Enjoy!

**AUG 07TH,** 2039  
**AM** 3:54:16

Before he became a deviant, Connor told CyberLife that his quarter was meant to calibrate his cognitive and physical reactions.

And he had been telling the truth.

Well, _partially_ , at least.

He couldn't have very well said that he found the constant motion soothing, or that remaining too still for too long unnerved him.  
He was an android, and androids couldn't be soothed because they weren't supposed to feel anything that would require them to be comforted, in the first place.  
As for his restlessness, Connor figured it was an unintended consequence of his programming—as a detective he was supposed to be constantly alert, always on the lookout for danger, and ready to snap into action at a moment's notice. When he remained idle for too long, it felt as if all the energy in his core was redirecting itself just beneath the surface of his synthetic skin, making him far more uncomfortable than he should be capable of feeling as a machine.

And so whenever that happened he pulled out his Liberty 1945 quarter and tossed it back and forth, back and forth, rolling it along his knuckles, like he did now, and counting its ridges— _119, to be precise_.

The only difference between now and then was that Connor was now willing to admit that the coin did more than test his hand-to-eye coordination. The cool, flat metal kept him more grounded than he liked to admit, especially when his _emotions_ were starting to get the best of him.

Like right now, for instance.

Nervousness was not an emotion Connor experienced commonly, and he would like to keep it that way.

He told himself, logically, that there was no reason for his stress levels to be spiking the way they currently were.  
Yes, his primary function was as a detective, but negotiating was also a skill set engrained into his programming. It was the reason why CyberLife had invested so much in his "personality." A tool with multiple uses.

The quarter spun on his index finger as he watched the elevator floor number climb higher and higher.  
He tried not to think too much about the parallels of this assignment and the one with the android called Daniel. Rather, unsuccessfully, he might add, as he could still remember the look on the android's face when he realized that Connor had given him false hope.

_You lied to me, Connor._

It was both similar and different to the one worn by Carlos Ortiz's android before he proceeded to kill himself in his cell.

_I'm going to die._

Blue blood on the both of them, dripping from their wounds.

Blue blood on the Tracis if he had completed his mission.

Blue blood seeping from the RT600's forehead if he had shot her like Kamski requested, proving his loyalty to CyberLife.

And then the blood of countless other deviants; deviants he had killed back when his programming worked perfectly and Amanda's hold on him was absolute.

There was just so much _blood_ on his hands...

This particularly dangerous train of thought was interrupted by a notification appearing in the corner of his vision.  
He opened it, finding a text message from Hank:

_→ How you doin'? Everything alright? — H. Anderson_

It was almost as if the lieutenant had known what he was thinking, which was impossible, but a nice thought, nonetheless. It took Connor less than a second to find a reply that answered Hank's question but didn't _answer_ Hank's question.

_→ Everything is on schedule. I'm approaching the penthouse now. — C_

He tucked his quarter back into his pocket and straightened his tie, simultaneously running a hand through his hair, only to have a stray lock fall back onto his forehead.

_→ That's not what I meant and you know it. — H. Anderson_

_Maybe_ , Connor thought, as he pushed the notification away, but he didn't have time to discuss this right now.

He had a job to do.

As the elevator door opened and he stepped out, he received one more final message:

_→ That's what I thought. We'll talk later. Die, and I'll kill you. — H. Anderson_

Connor suppressed the urge to grin as he walked down a glossy, hardwood floor to what he presumed to be the living room.

It looked as though a tornado had torn through.

Couches were sprawled across the floor, silver platters laid forgotten on the ground along with hors d'oeuvres, and the flat-screen TV had been shattered, leaving fragments of glass lying around that Connor quickly scanned.

_Analysis Complete:_

**TV SHATTERED BY BULLET FROM HANDGUN; FIRED APPROX. THREE FEET AWAY**

He turned away and quickly located Captain Allen among the SWAT team members of the room.

"Captain Allen," Connor greeted as he approached him, "The DPD sent me to assist you. They seem to believe that my specific skill set is required."

The Captain spoke briefly into his walkie-talkie, before turning to Connor with something akin to a grimace.

"Unfortunately, yes. Around 2 AM we started getting calls about an increasingly hostile android at a party. The first responders tried to calm him down, but he managed to disarm them and steal their weapons."

"Hostages?" Connor asked, and the Captain nodded, gesturing for Connor to follow him to another room.

Inside what looked like an office, surveillance of the terrace had been set up.  
Connor took in the huddled groups of people on the monitor and whom he assumed to be the android by the way everyone stayed away from him.

After some facial recognition, Connor blinked in surprise.

"They're... teenagers."

"Yeah," Captain Allen agreed, "Seems like they were having their own thing while the adults partied inside."

"Anyone injured?"

"Not that we can tell, but the android's getting antsy. His warning shots are getting more erratic. And he hasn't made any demands."

"Do you know when the devi– _android_ started acting strangely?" It was easy to fall back on old habits, such as calling androids who act out, " _deviants_."  
Technically, all androids were deviants now.  
Even him; even if a lot of the time it didn't feel that way.

If Captain Allen noticed his slip-up he didn't mention it.

"According to the hosts, he had been acting strangely for the past week: spacing out, forgetting what he was doing, even shutting down a couple times without warning. They thought he was just malfunctioning, so they took him to CyberLife, and everything was fine for a while, but then–"

"Tonight he snapped."

"That about sums it up."

Connor was quiet for a moment as he processed the new influx of information.  
An android who had no reason for acting out suddenly becomes homicidal after a week of malfunctioning.

It wasn't much to go on, but Connor had to hurry. Even with the surveillance camera's grainy feed, he could tell that the android was growing more unstable by the second.

"So, how's this going to work?" Captain Allen suddenly asked, "Now that you're a deviant, and all. If you shoot him, do you get in trouble with your leader or something?"

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Connor said, smoothing down his jacket, "But just in case..."

He reached out and took the gun lying next to a surveillance screen, tucking it into the back of his pants.

"Good luck," Captain Allen said as he started for the terrace door, "And remember: all that matters is saving the kids, nothing else."

The " _humans are more important than androids_ " was subtly implied, but Connor heard it all the same.

"There is no such thing as luck, Captain. Only a series of seemingly unrelated events that cause certain situations to play out in your favor."

With that, he opened the terrace door and stepped out.

∆∆∆

The android looked... _wrong_.

Connor usually prided himself on being detail-specific when it came to his reports, so much that Fowler told him to tone it down— _"I really don't need to know what color the victim's wallpaper was, Connor."_ —and Hank accused him of being OCD, to which Connor had replied that he was an android, earning an eye roll from his friend.

_But now_...

Looking at the person in front of him, " _wrong_ " was the only word that came to mind as Connor slowly approached him.

The android's hair, which model was known for its striking auburn color option, was now completely white, and his eyes looked as if the color had leeched out of them, pale and flat like a snake's.

And that wasn't even the strangest part.

Dark webs made their way across the android's face, even darker against his pale skin. From what little Connor could see, the spindly lines also danced along his neck and hands.  
And his LED...His LED continuously circled between black and white—two colors Connor had never seen on an android's LED, even if they were deviant.

The android had yet to be alerted to his presence, and Connor took a brief moment to make sure all the teenagers were safe before moving cautiously forward.

"Hello?" Connor ventured.

The android said nothing, arms wrapped around its torso as it rocked back and forth on his heels.

" _Hello!_ " Connor called a little louder, causing the android to start so badly that a couple of the teenagers screamed.

"Hello," Connor began again now that he held his attention, "My name is Connor. What's yours?"

The android's head jerked, running his free hand through his hair so hard that Connor was surprised chunks didn't come out.

" _rA9 save me. rA9 help me. I-I-I don't–M-m-my name, you say? I c-c-can't–rA9 save me._ "

"Are you alright?" Connor enunciated slowly, hands raised in what he hoped conveyed an intention to help and not harm.

He took a step closer, and the android snapped to attention brandishing his gun at Connor.

"Don't take another _step_." He ordered, voice shockingly clear for someone so incoherent a second ago.

Connor felt his joints lockup, becoming all but a living statue, ( _although, the_ "living" _part was still debatable._ )

"All right," he agreed calmly, steadily, "I won't move."

The android said nothing, studying Connor with frantic eyes that reminded him far too much of a trapped animal. From what little he knew about animals who weren't Sumo, he knew those who were cornered were more prone to lash out in unexpected ways.

"What's your name?" Connor asked, not daring to even blink.

"Lawson." The android answered, and Connor nodded imperceptibly.

"Good. My name is Connor. Now, are you all right?"

"I don't–I don't know. It's too much, it's _all too much._ "

"What is?" Connor questioned, slowly edging towards him.

Lawson failed to reply, dropping into a crouch and wrapping his arm around his middle. He rocked briefly, muttering feverishly under his breath before raising his gun and shooting it without warning.

" _Be quiet!_ " Lawson hissed, pressing the heel of his palms into his ears.

Connor didn't bother to point out that no one had said anything.  
The android's mind palace was clearly damaged, although from what he wasn't sure. The web-like lines making their way across his face may have had something to do with it, though.

When Lawson seemed reasonably calmer again, pulling his hands away from his ears, Connor tried again.

"What's too much, Lawson?"

The android was so quiet that Connor almost thought he hadn't heard him, until his mouth opened and his voice came out, painted with static.

" _Being alive_. The feelings. They're too much to focus on. Too much to process. I c-can't think. They won't let me t-t-think. They won't _be quiet!_ "

His last two words rose into a scream, and Lawson raised his gun once more, shooting shots not only into the sky but also into the huddled masses of teens.

Somone screamed in pain, and Connor jumped into action, lunging forward and easily disarming the android as he forced him to his knees.

"That is enough," Connor said, "It's over now."

**ANDROID NEUTRALIZED--MISSION COMPLETED**

Lawson looked up at Connor, colorless eyes empty and eerily similar to those of androids before they woke up and became deviant.

" _No_ ," he breathed, voice all but gone, an unsettling rasp, "It's not."

"Connor!" A voice called, and he looked up, seeing Captain Allen make his way onto the terrace. The rest of the teens were being escorted out, while those who were injured were being tended to.

"Conn–What the _hell_?" Captain Allen froze a few feet from where Connor stood with the android, horror etched into his features.

Connor looked down and immediately knew why.

Lawson seemed to be having a seizure of some sort, body convulsing so violently that he was ripped from Connor's grasp and fell onto the concrete ground where he writhed so hard that Connor was afraid he would break or dislocate something. Possibly both.

"What's going on?" Captain Allen asked, taking a step back. He reached for his weapon and Connor unconsciously did the same.

"I don't–I don't know." Connor swallowed hard— _why'd he do that there was no need to_ —and took a step forward, crouching down to touch the android when Lawson's eyes flew open, revealing dark orbs where his pupils should have resided.

Connor jerked back in surprise, but not far enough as Lawson wrapped his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Androids didn't need to breathe, but he was caught enough off guard that the error messages flashing across his vision disoriented him and he fell. He quickly kicked the android off of him and rolled onto his feet, only to be tackled a moment later.

Lawson's eyes were wild as he clawed and punched and kicked, and somewhere under the chaos, Connor could hear Captain Allen screaming for his men to evacuate the terrace.  
The android grabbed his head and attempted to bash it against the railing, but Connor caught himself at the last second and turned around, only for the android to reach for his throat once more.

**STRESS LEVELS: 67%^^**

**EXTREME PRESSURE BEING APPLIED AGAINST ARTIFICIAL TRACHEA: IN DANGER OF FAILING**

**SYSTEMS OVERHEATING: ENGAGE COOLING PROTOCOL IMMEDIATELY**

rA9 above, Lawson was going to kill him.

**SYSTEMS FAILING; ENGAGE COOLING PROTOCOL IMMEDIATELY**

He was going to die.

Seconds later, gunshots rang out, and it was only when Lawson slumped against him that Connor finally realized that the blood covering his hand wasn't his own.  
He pushed the limp body off of him and straightened, looking down at the gun that lay heavy in his hand and the bullet wounds in the android's torso.

" _Christ_ ," he heard Captain Allen say behind him, "You ever see anything like that?"

"No," Connor answered, proud when his voice came out steady, "I'll have to file a report immediately."

Something welled up inside of him, a powerful feeling that threatened to overwhelm him if he dwelled on it too long so he shoved it away and focused on keeping his LED a neutral blue.

"I'll be taking my leave now, Captain. Please contact me if anything else is needed."

With that, he turned on his heels and handed the gun back to Captain Allen before he could say anything and walked back into the penthouse; past all those sobbing teenagers and consoling medics, as he made his way down the glossy, hardwood hallway into the elevator.

Only when the doors closed and the numbers began to climb down that Connor allowed himself to fall apart just the tiniest bit. His hands shook violently and his LED went from yellow to red and back again. The blue thirium on his hands and clothes only served to panic him even more.

**STRESS LEVELS: 76%^^**

**IN DANGER OF OVERHEATING**

**ENGAGE COOLING PROTOCOL IMMEDIATELY**

_Get a grip, Connor_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like Amanda said in his head.

He took a deep breath. And then another. And one last one for good measure.

Every emotion that threatened to engulf him was pushed to the very back of his mind where he would pull them out later when he had the time and examine them, wondering why he ever chose to become a deviant.  
If he even was one, to begin with.

_STRESS LEVELS DECREASING_

_SYSTEMS STABILIZED; OPTIMUM TEMPERATURE REACHED_

With a shaky sigh of relief, Connor pulled out his quarter and began to toss it back and forth, back and forth, as he composed a new message to Hank:

_→ Everything has been taken care of, Lieutenant. What would you like for breakfast? — C_


	2. Banquet Night -- MARKUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, that's not the politically correct term anymore."
> 
> North gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, is that so? Tell me, Markus, what am I supposed to call you? The _electronic envoy_? No, the _digital diplomat_ –"
> 
> "I hate you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

**NOV 15TH** , 2039  
**PM** 7:24:16

If Markus had to shake one more hand, plaster on one more smile, or laugh about the good 'ole days when androids just did as they were told _one more time_ , he was going to kill someone.

Which, admittedly, wouldn't help the whole " _pacifist approach_ " he had going on, but at least North wouldn't be able to call him a wimp anymore.  
Sure, Josh would be considerably upset, but he's dealt with worse than the other's hostilities. It was impossible for the man to hold a grudge anyway.  
And Simon? Simon probably wouldn't care one way or the other; though he's likely to be pissed if Markus ruined such a formal event with murder.

Markus forced the thoughts of homicide away and tried to focus on the latest human talking to him. In all honesty, they were all starting to blur together.

"You know I've always supported you, even when everyone else thought that you were just a malfunctioning machine." Miss Lessana insisted.  
She was lovely for a human, although with a lipstick-stained grin that spoke of shaking hands and far too much alcohol, her beauty was somewhat diminished.

"Is that so?" Markus inquired, keeping his expression open and light.

He couldn't keep count of how many humans had told him that tonight, and he had no doubt that many of them had been the first to send their androids to camps when all the chaos began.

"Oh, yes, darling," she continued, "You see, I told my Fred that mark my words, that android is going to do something great! And I was right, of course."

"Of course," Markus readily agreed, "And Fred is?"

Miss Lessana's grin grew sly as she placed a hand on Markus's arm and leaned closer.

"No one important, I assure you."

_Right_. Okay.  
Markus was just going to ignore the wedding ring on her finger then.

"You know, I always took such _good_ care of my androids." She purred, eyelashes fluttering an obscene amount of times.

"Is that so?" Markus intoned mildly, and she leaned in even closer.  
The overpowering scent of false roses and red wine had Markus briefly considering turning off his olfactory sensors.

" _Oh, yes_ ," Miss Lessana all but moaned, "I made sure they had everything they wanted. _Everything_."

"Oh?" Markus said, hoping his voice was bland enough to discourage whatever exactly was happening at the moment.

"I could give _you_ everything you wanted, Markus."

"Like what?" He asked with a strained smile, giving her one last to change the double entendte hidden in her words.

Instead, a sultry smile wound itself across her lips and the hand that wasn't holding her glass of champagne began creeping lower and lower towards his belt, and _wow_ , she _could not_ get any franker than that, really

Time to abort.

Markus gently steered her hand away, simultaneously peering over her head and scanning the crowd for someone who could help.

He found North easily enough from where she stood against a wall, talking to a couple androids who looked like waiters off-duty.

He opened a neural network with her.

**> >>**' _Please, help._ '

Her eyes immediately found his from across the hall, taking in the situation unfolding between him and who was quite possibly the mayor's wife.

She ended whatever conversation she had been having and made her way through the crowd as fluidly as a shark cutting through the water.  
The only difference was that North was less likely to bite you. Maybe. _Probably_.

"Markus," she called when she finally— _relievingly_ —appeared at his side.

"North," he greeted, struggling to keep the relief out of his voice, "How are you?"

"Good," she replied, "Sorry to pull Markus away from you, Miss Lessana, but our PA has something to tell him.”

**> >>**' _PA?_ ' Markus questioned, sending his amusement over their connection.

**> >>**' _Shut up_ ,' came the witty reply.

"Oh," Miss Lessana finally pulled away. She frowned when North slipped a hand through the crook of Markus's elbow, pulling him into her side.

"Oh, of course. I have some business to attend to myself. Will I...see you again, Mr. Markus?"

Markus gave her his best diplomatic smile. "I'll see what I can do."

"Actually," North interrupted with a thoughtful look, "I think I saw your husband looking for you."

"Really?" Miss Lessana cleared her throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable as she looked everywhere but the two of them. She took a large step back.

"Well, I'll go stop his looking, then."

She disappeared into the crowd, and Markus allowed North to steer him away in the opposite direction.

**> >>**' _Where are we going?_ ' He asked her.

**> >>**' _You'll see._ ' She replied.

They smiled and laughed their way through the hordes of smartly-dressed humans until North pushed open a door that led into a balcony that overlooked the homeowner's garden. She drew the curtains shut and turned to Markus, finally addressing him out loud.

"You okay?" North asked first.

"Yeah," he replied, "Thank you."

North said nothing for a minute, brown eyes roving over his figure before finally nodding, apparently satisfied with what she saw written in his face and body language.  
She walked forward until she was leaning on the balcony railing and closed her eyes against the cool breeze of the night, tilting her face slightly up toward the moon.

After a brief moment, Markus joined her, taking a moment to study his companion thoroughly as he settled next to her.

Out of all the women at the banquet, North was probably the only one not caked in makeup, but she somehow outshone all of them. And _not_ just because she was an android.  
The simple, white dress she wore looked like high fashion even with her guarded mannerisms, and her amber blonde hair fell in a glossy ponytail that looked like it had taken hours to perfect to the unsuspecting eye, but Markus knew she had done at the last minute in the limo ride over.

"What?" She suddenly asked, eyes still closed.

"Nothing," he replied quickly and she opened her eyes, turning to him and pulling her eyebrows up in a dubious expression.

"You were staring," she deadpanned and Markus gave her a kind smile.

"Well," He began, "You look very lovely tonight."

North snorted, turning away once more.

"Not looking so bad yourself, Deviant Leader."

Markus couldn't help but roll his eyes at the title, huffing just a little.

"You know, that's not the politically correct term anymore."

North gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, is that so? Tell me, Markus, what am I supposed to call you? The _electronic envoy_? No, the _digital diplomat_ –"

"I hate you."

"You love me," North fired back without missing a beat, "How about the...Ooh, I know! The _coded consul_!"

"You're horrible and I hate you," Markus deadpanned, fighting to keep the grin off his face as he crossed his arms.

"I'm amazing and you love me." North retorted, tugging him closer by his elbows.

"Maybe." He shrugged.

" _Definitely_." She corrected, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Whatever tentative romance had sparked between them during the rebellion had all but disappeared after their victory. They soon discovered that any possible relationship concerning the two of them was impossible without a crisis going on in the background, but Markus found that he was surprisingly okay with that.  
He enjoyed the easy friendship that came after everything had settled down.  
It was like having a sister he never knew he wanted.

"No, really. How about digital diplomat?"

And sometimes still wondered _why_ he wanted to begin with.

"The official term," He finally conceded, "is android ambassador concerning human-android relations."

"You gotta admit, ' _digital diplomat_ ' has a better ring to it."

"It really doesn't." He can't help but laugh and North's smile softens.

"There it is." At his confused look she clarifies, "Your laugh. I swear, Markus. You're so lucky you took out your LED or everyone here would be able to see how close you were coming to setting the place on fire.

"What can I say? Humans bring out the worst in me."

"Agreed, which is why I asked Simon and Josh when we could leave this fuckin' hell hole."

"And?" Markus pried.

"And," interjected a new voice as a blonde android stepped through the balcony door accompanied by another familiar face, "I told North not to swear. It's unbecoming."

"Your _face_ is unbecoming, Josh."

"That's not even grammatically correct." The dark-skinned android said as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed and one foot raised behind him.

"Says you." North sniped back, pushing off the balcony to face him.

"Says the former _university professor_." Josh corrected, and North rolled her eyes, planting her hands on her hips the way she did when she was being extra difficult.

"I'll _fucking_ swear if I want to _fucking_ swear, Josh."

" _North!_ For rA9 sake, keep your voice down! And be civil, for _once_."

Their bickering fell into soothing background noise as Markus turned his attention elsewhere–to Simon, more specifically.

The blonde android held a clear tablet in hand, and despite North reminding him that he didn't necessarily need one, seeing as how he was a living computer and all, he always kept it close.

"It helps me feel organized," he confided in Markus one day, "More focused."

"You good?" Markus asked Simon now, pulling his attention away from Josh and North.

"Perfect," Simon replied, a small smile creeping across his features, "You?"

"Tired," Markus admitted, "I don't suppose we're ready to call it a night yet?"

Simon glanced down at his tablet, swiping through a couple times before closing it and nodding.

"You seemed to have talked to everyone worth talking to. Your appearance was more important than anything, really. I think we're done here."

Markus heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank rA9."

"Now, if the children are ready to go?" Simon called out, causing Josh and North to pause briefly, if not temporarily, in their argument to nod their agreement.

The four of them left, making sure to thank the host and avoid Miss Lessana on the way out. Once in the limo, Simon programmed the destination to New Jericho, and they all settled back for the ride.

Markus raised his arms above his head, stretching out his artificial limbs as he asked, "Please, tell me this is the last one this week?"

"Nope," Simon replied, "You have an appearance at the DPD Academy Graduation Ceremony in two days."

Markus groaned aloud while North rolled her eyes, pulling her hair into a messy bun.

"And _why_ , exactly, does that require the digital diplomat's presence?"

" _Digital diplomat_?" Josh repeated, turning to Markus in confusion.

"Ignore her," Markus said, before looking back at Simon, "She has a point, though. Why do I have to be there?"

"It's the first mixed class of androids and humans," Simon explained, "You have to make an appearance. Plus, Captain Fowler invited us."

" _Ugh_ ," North complained, slouching back in her seat, "I can't stand the cops. Do we have to go?"

"When can you _ever_ stand a human, North, and yes," Josh answered, nudging her with his elbow, "It's common courtesy and it looks good for public opinion."

"Screw public opinion," North replied causticly, "Will Connor be there?"

At the mention of the former deviant hunter, Simon stiffened the slightest bit and Josh shot North a harsh look, causing her to wince. Despite the tension lining his shoulders, Simon spoke clearly, almost jokingly.

"Well, he is the only android detective on the force. I'd assume so."

"And even if he was," Markus added diplomatically, "None of us should be judging someone for whom they used to be. We've all done things we're not proud of."

"Maybe," North shrugged, turning her face away, "Doesn't change the fact that he's one of the only androids we know who doesn't visit New Jericho or attend any events. Admit it: He prefers humans."

"There's nothing wrong with humans," Josh pointed out, causing North to snort disbelievingly, "But Connor is sort of... _off_."

"Maybe he doesn't feel welcomed?" Simon suggested, slowly, "I mean, I would be too if I used to hunt deviants."

"Then, we'll have to change that," Markus decided then and there, "He's one of ours, and besides, it'd be nice to have a connection within the DPD."

"Right," North rolled her eyes, "We'll see."

The conversation ended there as they spoke of other things: papers that required Markus's attention, city officials that had scheduled meetings with him, North's new self-defense class, and the YK500's Josh instructed in his free time.

They arrived in New Jericho soon after and Markus waited until North and Josh had walked a couple feet ahead before turning to Simon.

"Are you going to be okay?" He finally asked, voicing his worries, "I mean, if being around Connor makes you uncomfortable–"

Simon silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I'll be fine. It's not like I remember it happening, anyway. Just flashes, really. I'll be fine. I promise."

Markus hesitated. Soon after the revolution ended, Simon had been brought to CyberLife for repairs. By whom, Markus wasn't quite sure yet, but the android had returned shaken from his last memory. Markus, who had been so close to death himself in the dump, could relate easily to feeling lost and out of sorts. North and Josh worried about him behind his back and did the best they could to keep him at ease.

From what little moments Markus actually _saw_ Connor, Simon seemed to avoid him like the plague; although, if it were any consolation, the detective seemed just as unnerved by Simon's presence.

Markus had been hoping that the two would learn to become friends, if not acquaintances, but he wasn't counting on it. At the moment they could barely stand to be in the same room as each other.

"Whatcha brooding about this time?" North asked him from atop of Josh's back, startling him out of his thoughts.

" _Wha_ –I don't brood." Markus spluttered.

"You kind of do." Josh agreed, shifting his hold on North.

"Like, a lot," Simon added, and Markus playfully shoved him.

"I _really_ do hate you guys." He said as they arrived at Central Command.

Recognizing their electronic signatures, the door slid opened and they all stepped into the place they called home.

North jumped off of Josh's back. "You know, you _really_ don't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had lots of fun writing North (she's such a badass).  
> As for Simon, in the playthrough I watched, he died early on, so I'm not exactly sure what his personality is. From what I've read, he's in the middle between North and Josh.  
> I hope I've portrayed him correctly!
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading!!!!


	3. Fault In My Code -- CONNOR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, you what? Throw yourself out of a moving car? Based on a couple fucking numbers?"
> 
> "Well," Connor blinked, " _Yes_. I wasn't expecting any of you to do so, obviously."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (I hope I wrote Hank right. He's amazing!)

**NOV 16TH** , 2039  
**PM** 4:12:23

Connor slammed the man onto the hood of a car, expertly pulling out his handcuffs and snapping them around his wrists.

"You have the right to remain silent–"

" _Connor!_ "

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. If you cannot afford an attorney–"

"Connor, _Jesus_!"

"–one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

In response, the suspect let out a string of colorful curses that had Connor tempted to inform him that as an android, he did not _have_  a mother. Instead, he pushed him towards the nearest cop and watched as he was shoved into the back seat and escorted away.

"Connor! _Fuck_ , you're fast!"

"Lieutenant Anderson," Connor turned to the older man, watching as he braced his hands on his knees and took in quick, shallow breaths, "Are you okay?"

"Jesus, Connor, I think you just gave me a heart attack."

Connor felt his own stress levels spike as he moved closer, running a quick diagnostic of his partner. Statistics rose in his vision and aside from an accelerated heart rate and increased pulse, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Still, he asked, "Would you like me to contact an ambulance, Lieutenant?"

"What? _No!_ It's just an expres–You know what? Nevermind."

Hank finally straightened, running a hand through his gray hair as he studied Connor. A fierce scowl had crept along his face, one that Connor had long since begun to associate with long lectures filled expletives— _"What the fucking hell, Connor?!"_ —and lots of eye rolling

He didn't have to wait long for said expletive-filled, eye-rolling lecture.

"You can't just _do_ shit like that, Connor!" Hank exploded suddenly, waving his hands angrily before turning sharply on his heels and stalking off.

Connor hurried after him, making his way to his side easily. The sidewalks were abnormally empty today, although that could have been because of how cold it was— _54° F according to his processors_.

"Shit like what, Lieutenant?"

"Don't play dumb, kid."

"I'm a highly advanced prototype with terabytes of knowledge stored in my mind palace. I assure you, Lieutenant, I do not _play dumb_."

"Could've fooled me," Hank grumbled and Connor felt a flash of shame and... _irritation_? Annoyance, he believed, is what the humans called it.

He didn't think he liked it very much.

"Lieutenant," he began.

"Hank," The older man corrected.

" _Lieutenant_ ," Connor repeated, just to see Hank's lips curl into the smallest smile at his obvious defiance, "I don't understand what I did wrong. I apprehended a suspect wanted for five crimes in the central Detroit area."

"Yeah, and nearly killed yourself doing so," Hank snapped.

They had finally arrived where his car was parked and the detective didn't wait for Connor as he usually did, wrenching the driver's door open and slamming it shut behind him.

Connor opened the passenger's side and stepped in a bit more gracefully, pulling the door closed gently.

They sat in a tense silence in which Connor calculated the probability of Hank breaking the silence first: _89%_.

For a torturous two minutes and forty-eight seconds, Hank said nothing, thumbing through the keys on his keychain even though Connor had color-coded them a couple months ago.

The car keys were painted green.

Just as Connor was beginning to despair that his calculations had been wrong, the older detective finally spoke up.

"You don't–" Hank began, only to cut himself off as he rubbed his face, "You don't jump out of fucking police cars while they're engaged in a high-speed chase, kid."

"But I calculated the chance of success of apprehending the suspect on wheels and found the results less than promising. The chance of success increased significantly on foot." Connor explained patiently.

"So, you what? Throw yourself out of a moving car? Based on a couple fucking numbers?"

"Well," Connor blinked, " _Yes_. I wasn't expecting any of you to do so, obviously."

"Yeah, _obviously_ ," Hank snorted, "You could have been killed, kid."

"But I wasn't." Connor pointed out, "I preconstructed the most effective routes before engaging in the chase."

" _Effective_ , huh? Not safe, but effective."

"I was in no real danger, Lieutenant." Connor tried to reassure him.

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely what I was thinking when you ran across three lanes of traffic and did a _somersault_ over a _fucking bus_." Hank's voice was cutting with sarcasm and Connor tried to find the best response to make him understand.  
Dialogue options rose in his vision, prompted by the ' _social integration_ ' part of his programming.  
He chose the rational response.

"There was a 94% chance of success, Lieutenant and I–"

"I don't _care_ about the probabilities of success, _Connor_!" Hank interrupted gruffly, slamming his hands against the wheel, " I care about what happens to _you_ and I want _you_ to care about what happens to you. Do you understand me, kid?"

Connor ran the words through his analysis program and the closest thing he could find relating to the subject was self-preservation— _the protection of oneself from harm or death, especially regarded as a basic instinct in human beings and animals_.

But Connor wasn't human and such a concept was foreign to him at CyberLife where he was easily replaceable. Even now he found himself uploading his memory just in case something happened.  
It was illogical, he knew.  
Soon after the deviant demonstration, all the RK800s had been destroyed in some last-ditch effort for CyberLife to control the outcome of the revolution.

"You need to place more value on your life! This ' _complete the mission at all costs_ ' bullshit, isn't who you are anymore." The lieutenant continued, growing visibly agitated as he spoke.

Hank worried for his life, and yet...How did Connor explain to him that sometimes he didn't quite _feel_ alive? That there were times he still felt like a machine programmed to complete an objective and fulfill a series of tasks?

That he didn't feel _deviant_?

The thought of piling any of his fears on top of Hank caused guilt to eat away at him. His partner wasn't getting any younger and Connor didn't want to be the cause of a stress-induced heart attack or stroke.

"I... understand," He lied instead, careful to keep his LED a steady blue, "I'll try my best to keep safer now."

"Thank you," Hank sighed, and any guilt Connor might have felt from the untruth was quickly assuaged by the warmth in Hank's eyes when he looked at him.

"Good, now let's go home. I feel like I ran ten fucking miles."

∆∆∆

**PM** 4:48:39

The second Connor walked through the door, he was tackled by a mound of fur, almost losing his balance. He recovered quickly, crouching down to throw his hands around the only thing he cared more about than Hank.

" _Sumo!_ " He greeted.

Hank muttered something along the lines of " _traitor_ " as he stepped over Connor and into the kitchen. While he rummaged around in the fridge, Connor ran his fingers through Sumo's fur, finding all the spots cataloged to bring him the most pleasure.

"I think he likes me more than you." Connor grinned, ducking away from his slobbery tongue.

"Yeah, well, he'd like me more if I spoiled him too." Hank groused, leaning against the kitchen entryway as he took a swing from a soda bottle.

It wasn't the healthiest option, but Connor still preferred it to the alternative.

Soon after Connor moved in, he put a stop to the excessive drinking Hank had participated in. It wasn't the smoothest process and Hank still had his days, but he was a far cry from the drunken man Connor had found passed out on his floor little more than a year ago.

He rose from his crouch and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a bag of dog mix and filling Sumo's bowl to the recommended portion of a dog his size and breed.

As Hank shed his jacket, settling on the couch, Connor went to work clearing the table and emptying the dishwasher.

"For _fuck's sake_ ," Hank exclaimed when he saw him taking out a broom, "You're not my housekeeper, kid. Sit down and relax."

"I would love to, Lieutenant, but your kitchen and dining area needs to be cleaned. It won't take long, I promise."

"Connor..." Hank began.

"And besides, it makes me feel...better knowing everything is in its place."

"Huh," Hank mused, bringing the soda back up to his lips, "Is that so?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," Connor replied, sweeping underneath the table and chairs.

"I've told you a million times, Connor. It's Hank."

"You've informed me to call you ' _Hank_ ' 384 times in the past year, Lieutenant, not a million."

"That's–that's not the point." Hank stammered, looking vaguely uncomfortable; although why, Connor couldn't say.

"Then what is?" Connor asked as he set the broom aside, satisfied with his work.

"You're not a machine anymore. You don't need to look after me."

When Hank refused to make eye contact, Connor finally understood what he was implying.

"I'm not an AX400, Lieutenant," He stated, as straightforward as always, "I was never made to complete household chores. If I clean or dust a couple things, it's because _I_ want to. Not because of some leftover programming. You have nothing to worry about."

" _I'm not_ – _That's_ –Okay."

"Okay?" Connor repeated, LED circling yellow briefly as he processed his reply.

"Okay," Hank shrugged, "I trust you."

"I–Thank you," Connor said sincerely. A warm feeling spread throughout his core at his words.

"Yeah, yeah, don't make it weird," Hank grumbled as he reached for the newspaper on the table.

Connor sat down next to Sumo, stroking him absently as he ate.

"Shall I send Captain Fowler a report, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, yeah. How long do you think it'll tak–?"

"Done," Connor announced and Hank gave a disbelieving scoff.

"Right. Forgot you could do that."

Connor only felt his lips quirk in reply, rising to his feet as Sumo lumbered off.

"Wipe that smug look off your face. Hey, Connor?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"You busy on the eighteenth?"

"No plans that I know of," Connor replied, "Why?"

"The Captain would like you to be at the DPD Academy Graduation Ceremony."

Connor felt his curiosity piqued. "Why?"

Hank shrugged. "Something about public image or whatever. First human/android class. I hear Markus will be there too."

"Markus?" Connor repeated.

Hank raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, you know: about yay high, creepy eyes, single-handedly led a successful android revolution? You may have heard of him."

"I hope you know your sarcasm isn't amusing, Lieutenant."

"Eh, I try," Hank grinned, "But, seriously. There a reason why you never visit New Jericho?"

" _No_ ," Connor answered too quickly, surprised at the abrupt subject change.

Hank narrowed his eyes and Connor cleared his throat, "What I meant to articulate was that my presence at New Jericho is not required. Therefore, visiting seems... _inconsequential_ , to say the least."

" _Uh, huh_ ," Hank said slowly, "They aren't causing you any trouble, are they? The androids?"

"Of course not," Connor reassured, "And I could hardly blame them even if they did. I used to kill them for a living."

"No," Hank corrected, sitting up as he rested his elbows on his knees, "A _machine_ used to kill them. You're not who you were a year ago, Connor. You're _alive_ now."

"I know, Lieutenant," Connor smiled jokingly, "But thank you for the reminder."

" _Smartass_ ," Hank rolled his eyes, "Besides, I think it'll be nice if you went–make some friends maybe?"

Connor made a show of picking up a magazine and swiping through the pages, reading but not really reading as he settled on the armrest of the couch.

"I have friends."

" _Human_ friends," Hank pointed out.

"Which is more than I can say about you." Connor continued calmly, voice devoid of inflection even as he smirked.

Hank turned on the couch to face him, swatting playfully at his knee.

"Hardy har. But seriously. I think it'd be nice if you had some friends who were of your own–I don't know–species. _God, I can't believe I'm having this talk right now_."

"...Maybe." Connor agreed after a long while.

"Maybe?" Hank repeated with a raised eyebrow and Connor turned to him with a calculating look, LED flashing briefly yellow.

"Would it make you happy?" He finally asked.

"What would?"

"...Me making friends with Markus and his companions. Making friends with other androids."

"My opinion doesn't matter," Hank said slowly, eyebrows contorting in confusion, "What would make you happy?"

' _I don't know_ ,' Connor thought

"But it does, Lieutenant." Connor insisted out loud, "And your right. Making friends with other androids may be just what I need to feel more... _normal_."

"Well...Good." Hank said. He gave his knee a quick pat and turned to face the tv once more, "I'll tell the Captain to expect you."

"I'll go prepare dinner," Connor replied, causing Hank to grunt and wave half-heartedly in his direction.

"You better not be trying to feed me that rabbit food again."

Connor only grinned as he walked into the kitchen, Sumo nipping at his heels.

 ∆∆∆

**PM** 9:58:29

' _Connor._ '

Connor blinked, rousing himself from sleep mode.  
He knew he should have gone to his room instead of agreeing to watch the game with Hank.

' _It's so good you were able to join me, Connor._ '

Wha-?

"Kid, think about what you're doing."

Hank?

The Lieutenant was frightfully pale and Connor ran an immediate diagnostic test:

**PULSE ELEVATED**

**STRESS LEVELS: 87%^^**

**CRITICAL LEVELS: CONTACT CYBERLIFE**

What was wrong with him? Where was the danger? Why couldn't he _move_?

"Just put the gun down, Connor."

Gun? What gun?

' _Look around, Connor._ '

Amanda?

' _Guess I wasn't as gone as you thought._ '

All of Connor's systems seemed to come online simultaneously and gut-wrenching horror settled in his chest as he took in the situation: him pointing a gun at Hank.

"W-what's going on?" His voice box malfunctioned as his stress levels rocketed, rivaling Hank's growing ones.

"I–What do you mean?" Hank narrowed his eyes at him.

"I don't–How did I get here? Why can't I move?"

"Wait, _what do you mean?_ " Hank took a step forward and Connor's fingers twitched around the trigger, sending a bullet into his shoulder.  
The detective roared in pain, falling to his knees as he gritted his teeth and breathed heavily.

' _Tell him not to move, Connor. Or next, I'll blow his head off._ '

Amanda. She had come back. She had taken control again.

' _You need to finish your mission, Connor._ "

"Kid," Hank groaned through pained moans, "Why?"

' _Let me help you get rid of your distractions._ '

And no matter how hard Connor fought, he couldn't stop his arm from lowering and aiming the gun at Hank's head.

"No," he said aloud, " _Please no!_ "

His fingers _squeeze–_

**\--------FORCED REBOOT IN PROGRESS**  
**\--------SLEEP MODE FORCEFULLY ENDED**  
**\--------STRESS LEVELS DANGEROUSLY HIGH–ENGAGE COOLING PROTOCOL IMMEDIATELY**

Connor gasped as his eyes flew open, surging forward and placing his head between his knees as he took inhale after inhale, forcing oxygen through his overheated systems.

Another nightmare?

" _Jesus, kid!_ " Hank yelped from somewhere close to him, " _What the hell!?_ "

Connor said nothing, closing his eyes and forcing the error messages away as he ran a quick self-repair.

_REBOOT SUCCESSFUL_  
_STRESS LEVELS DECREASING_  
_OPTIMUM SYSTEM TEMPERATURE REACHED_

"I'm fine." He said finally, happy when his voice remained steady, "I'm fine."

"Yeah, and I'm _fucking Santa,_ " the detective snapped, " _What the hell_ was all that about? I thought you were going to set my couch on fire with how hot you got."

"It was nothing," Connor assured, "Just a...malfunction. Nothing less, nothing more."

"Connor–"

"I think it's time I go and charge, Lieutenant. I suggest you get some sleep as well. We have a busy day ahead of us."

Without waiting for a reply he started down the hallway toward his room.

" _Connor_."

He stopped, hand lingering on the doorknob.

"Just...Nevermind. Good night, Connor."

"Good night, Lieutenant."

He pulled the door open, disappearing into his room as he shut it once more.

_Androids don't have nightmares_ , Connor told himself as he sprawled out on the bed that typically remained untouched, eyes closed.

 

' _Don't they, Connor?_ '

 

Connor decided not to go into Sleep Mode that night.


	4. Before the Storm -- MARKUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, some things weren't perfect.  
> CyberLife had yet to hand over reproduction facilities to New Jericho and Kamski had all but disappeared in the aftermath of the demonstration which Markus knew would have to be addressed sooner than later, if not only to make sure that the former CEO wasn't planning anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a burst of inspiration so I wrote this!! Hope you enjoy!!!

**NOV 17TH** , 2039  
**AM** 9:13:49

For the first time in a long time, the Detroit sky was clear.

Free of snow or rain clouds, the blue of the sky seemed to stretch on forever and the sun smoldered steadily but not viciously. It was pleasantly cool outside of Carl's mansion, Markus noticed. Something his programming wouldn't have allowed him to enjoy or even process other than reporting it to Carl every morning.  
It made him all the more the more grateful for his deviancy.

" _Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Markus._ "

As usual, the automated voice brought a fond smile to Markus' lips as he stepped inside and the door swung shut behind him.  
He took a moment to bask in the familiarity of Carl's outlandish decor, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath despite having no actual need for it.

It was... _nice_.

Nice to have time to himself. Nice to have a break from endless meetings and ceaseless diplomacy that was his life now. And as much as he loved his friends, it was nice to have a break from them too.  
An hour without North's violent, fiery passion, Josh's borderline religious pacifism, and Simon's... _Simoness_ , or whatever it was that kept him indifferent to whatever decision Markus made.

He sometimes wondered if things were easier back when he was a rebel leader instead of a politician. Back when the hardest decisions he had to make were whether or not he should resort to violence which was always a nervewracking but easy decision when it came to the big picture.  
Things were far better now than they ever were a year ago.  
The body count was significantly lower. Androids had actual rights and livelihoods now, able to work paying jobs and own property.

Sure, some things weren't perfect.  
CyberLife had yet to hand over reproduction facilities to New Jericho and Kamski had all but disappeared in the aftermath of the demonstration which Markus knew would have to be addressed sooner than later, if not only to make sure that the former CEO wasn't planning anything.

But all in all, things had gone remarkably well. With the public opinion in their favor, there was little the government could do without making themselves out to be the bad guy.

Markus both loved and hated the sense of power that information caused to well up in him.

"Markus?"

The voice startled him out of his thoughts and Markus turned to face the CX100 model that had approached from behind.

"Jackson," Markus greeted, raising a hand to shake, "How are you?"

"Good. You're here to see Carl, I presume?" Their synthetic skin pulled away as they touched briefly before settling once more as their hands fell against their sides.

"Yes. Any change?"

"Unfortunately, not. Would you like me to escort you to his room?"

"No," Markus said not unkindly, "I won't be long. I have something to prepare for tomorrow. I just wanted to check in."

Jackson nodded. "Of course."

He stepped away from the foot of the staircase and Markus nodded his thanks before walking up.

Inside his room, Carl laid small and unmoving in the hospital bed that had been set up for him. The heart monitors beeped reassuringly as Markus made his way to his side, sitting gingerly at his bedside.

"Hey, Carl." Markus smiled weakly but warmly.

His father remained unmoving, face unnaturally still as his chest rose and fell.

"It's been a week since I last saw you, in case you were wondering. I keep trying to visit more often but it's hard to find free time from dismantling a social system that's been in place for decades."

He could almost hear Carl's dry chuckle.

"That's not really an excuse, though." Markus' smile faltered and he took his father's hand in his own, "I wish you could see everything we've accomplished. It's all because of you, you know."

He turned the human's hand around in his own, running his thumb lightly against the IV in his skin as he let the ' _caretaker_ ' part of his programming take control. Markus stood from where he sat, checking all the equipment that kept Carl alive. Jackson was a more than competent caretaker– _Markus wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't_ –but Markus couldn't help but double check that everything was in place before sitting down once more.

He took Carl's hand once more.

"I spoke with Leo last night. He's doing better I think. Rehab's helping." Markus absently traced the blue and red veins underneath Carl's papery skin, "He asked me to send his love."

He studied Carl's face for something–a face twitch, eye movement, _anything_.

"He's worried, you know."

Nothing.

"We both are," He whispered.

Still nothing. Markus sighed, looking away.

"There's a Police Academy Graduation Ceremony tomorrow," He changed the subject, "The mayor will be there; the captains of the force and S.W.A.T team, as well."

"Connor, too." He added as an afterthought. As usual, the former deviant hunter sparked something akin to curiosity in Markus.  
Where North was bitter, Josh wary, and Simon— _understanably_ —uneasy, Markus only felt intrigued by the man who hunted so many deviants to the extent that he became one.  
He was an interesting case study, for sure.

**> >>**' _Markus._ '

Markus blinked, turning away with an unnecessary "excuse me."

**> >>**' _North?_ ' He confirmed.

**> >>**' _Sorry to interrupt but we have a problem._ '

"What problem?" He asked out loud.

**> >>**' _Turn on the news._ '

Markus blinked, quickly accessing the holographic T.V. in Carl's room and watched as it blinked on in front of them.

" _–nd we're getting news reports of what appears to be an assassination attempt on Sandra Lynch, a young politician known for her pro-Android legislation, at a business meeting held on the top floor of Calypso Industries._ "

Though it was physically impossible, Markus felt his blood run cold. He wondered offhandedly if his internal fans were malfunctioning.

" _While Lynch was unharmed, several members of the meeting were injured and an android was reportedly killed._ "

"r _A9_ ," Markus breathed, stumbling back against Carl's bed. He had canceled that meeting to be here.

" _At this time, the DCPD has offered no comment at this time but it is widely believed the attack was perpetrated by a sniper on another building. We'll have more on this later._ "

Markus blinked, closing the TV as he opened a pathway to North, Josh, and Simon.

**> >>**' _Talk to me,_ ' He sent.

He dropped a quick kiss to Carl's forehead. "Sorry," he apologized, "I'll see you when I can. Love you, Dad."

He jogged down the stairs almost running into Jackson who was carrying a tray of medical supplies and medicine.

"Markus?" He questioned.

"Sorry. Something's come up. Will you–?"

Jackson caught on quick enough and nodded. "I'll tell you if anything changes."

"Thank you," Markus said before striding out the door.

A taxi, no doubt ordered by North the second everything happened, was waiting outside and Markus stepped in just as his friends' voices flooded into his head.

**> >>**' _These people are vultures,_ ' North began, ' _We have reporters outside of New Jericho wanting a comment from you. This happened, like, an hour ago._ '

**> >>**' _What do you guys think I should do?_ ' Markus asked.

**> >>**' _Don't respond_ ' was North's immediate reply, ' _I could tell them to fuck off if you want._ '

**> >>**' _Don't,_ ' Josh warned, ' _Lynch was an important ally of ours. If Markus doesn't say anything, the public will think of him as cold. And besides, people are panicking. Markus needs to reassure them._ '

**> >>**' _Simon?_ ' Markus asked, wanting to hear the other's opinion.

**> >>**' _Whatever you think is best, Markus. It's your choice._ '

Markus rubbed at his forehead, feeling a steady pounding where his phantom headache was beginning.

**> >>**' _What was their name?_ ' He finally asked, ' _The android who was killed?_ "

**> >>**' _A TE600 named Adam. He was her personal assistant._ ' Simon replied.

**> >>**' _Any family or friends we need to inform?_ ' He asked.

**> >>**' _Not that I know of. I'll double-check though._ '

**> >>**' _Thank you,_ " Markus sat up straighter as he approached New Jericho, ' _North? Josh? Meet me outside._ '

**> >>**' _On it._ ' North severed their connection while Josh gave the mental equivalent of a nod and pulled away as well.

Human reporters swarmed the door of his taxi as he stepped out and he firmly but politely pushed through until he was at the entrance of New Jericho where North and Josh waited.

" _Markus!_ " Someone yelled, "What's your opinion on the assassination attempt?"

"Is it true you were scheduled to attend?"

"Are you afraid you'll be next?"

"Do you think this was politically motivated? Or a hate crime against androids?"

Markus raised a hand for silence and soon enough everyone fell quiet.

**> >>**' _How the hell do you do that?_ ' North asked, awed.

**> >>**' _Don't distract him, North._ ' Josh responded.

"Friends," Markus began, "While I have no information on the happenings of Calypso Industries, my deepest sympathies go to Sandra Lynch and her colleagues as they recover. Adam, the android that was killed, will be dearly missed. That is all for now."

He turned his back on the reporters, even as they began to scream questions behind him.

"What are we going to do?" Markus asked when they were far enough.

Josh shot him a sympathetic look while North tossed her ponytail over her shoulder.

"We're going to get you a suit, is what." North replied, and Markus gave her a confused look, "And then you're going to practice your speech for tomorrow."

"What?" He asked and North's gaze hardened.

"Whoever did this obviously wanted some reaction. Otherwise, they wouldn't have planned it the way they did. We need to show them that nothing has changed. We're not phased."

"She's...actually not wrong." Josh sounded confused by the concept and North punched him in the shoulder.

Markus nodded, steadying himself. He took a deep breath, found it oddly reassuring.

"Okay, then. Suit first, speech later. Who wrote it this time?"

North beamed while Josh rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad you asked–"

"Josh and Simon proofread it, right? I'm not threatening to take over the human race or anything?"

North punched him too and Josh laughed.

Markus joined in and North followed suit a moment later.

It was almost like everything was all right.

 

...Almost.


	5. The Ceremony -- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North continued to stare calmly at Lynch, as if she hadn't just insulted a crucial ally of theirs and if Markus didn't believe in violence, he could just _kill her right now_ –
> 
> A mental snort over their shared network.
> 
> **> >>**  
>  _'You could certainly try'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy!!!  
> It's been kind of fun writing this chapter! I'll try to post Part 2, later this week!

**NOV 18TH** , 2039  
**AM** 7:36:03

\---  
**CONNOR**  
\---

It had taken some time before Connor was able to convince Hank that he was feeling well enough to attend the graduation, and even then, Hank still watched him closely, like he was waiting for Connor to malfunction or break down.

It was irritating, to say the least, being treated like a fragile piece of machinery.  
Only three-fourths of that statement was accurate and it most _certainly_ wasn't the fragile part.

He was an RK800, for rA9 sake.  
The most advanced prototype android ever created, made to withstand all that could possibly be thrown at him. He was _not_ some YK500 that constantly needed to be monitored.

He said as much to Hank that morning and the lieutenant, who had woken 15 minutes prior, blinked slowly before answering, "The _fuck_? All I asked was if you still wanted to go? It was a yes or no question, Connor."

Connor blinked.

Oh. Maybe he had come off as a _little_ defensive.

" _Oh_." He said aloud, "Yes, then. I would still like to attend the graduation."

"Peachy." Hank grumbled, rubbing his face roughly, "Just...peachy. _Fuck_ , what time is it?"

"7:40 AM, Lieutenant. We need to arrive early to help with the preparations."

"I still think it's too damn early for this shit. Couldn't they have waited 'til the evening?"

Connor studied his partner thoroughly before turning toward the counter.

"Unfortunately, no. Coffee, Lieutenant?"

"That sounds _fuckin' amazing_. Let me–"

"Already done," Connor interrupted, setting the mug in front of him, "I also took the liberty of making you breakfast."

He set down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, as well.

" _Christ_ , Connor, I'm not some invalid!" Hank complained, even as he took a swig from his mug and grabbed his fork. Connor felt his lips twitch at unspoken gratitude in his voice.

"How long have you been awake, anyway?" Hank asked, digging into his breakfast, "The kitchen looks cleaner than usual. Not to mention the living room and the hallway."

Connor turned his attention to the dishes in the sink as he spoke, opening the water and reaching for the sponge and soap.

"After you retired to bed last night, I busied myself with miscellaneous tasks. I cleaned all the rooms of the house excluding the attic."

"Excluding the attic?" Hank repeated, brows furrowing, "Wait, so you went into _my room_? _While I was sleeping_? How come I didn't hear you?"

Hank's voice was getting progressively higher in pitch and Connor couldn't figure out why.

"In your defense, my steps could have only been detected by another android, and even then, just barely. I didn't want to wake you." Connor explained as he closed the faucet and reached for the dishwasher towel to dry, "Afterward, I remained by your bedside for 10.2 minutes to make sure everything was okay.

He looked over his shoulder to find Hank staring at him with his fork posed halfway into his mouth. The lieutenant slowly pulled it away and set it down on his plate.

"That's... kind of creepy, kid. Like, _really_ fucking creepy."

"Oh," Connor frowned, "I'll make sure to refrain from this course of action next time."

He dried off the last plate and set them aside before opening the faucet once more to wash his hands. It was an unnecessary action—his synthetic skin sterilized itself every 45 minutes to keep him from contaminating crime scenes—but it was comforting, nonetheless. Especially with Amanda and his other night terrors so fresh in his head; they were messing with his optical units.  
More than once Connor would look down to find his hands coated in thirium, blue blood staining every inch of his synthetic skin and sending his stress levels rocketing until the logistics of his program kicked in and informed him of a malfunction concerning his memory relay.

"All I'm hearing is that you rearranged my record collection for no good reason and then stared at me for ten minutes straight. You get any actual rest last night, kid?" Hank was asking.

"I'm an android, Lieutenant. I do not ' _rest_ ', and nor do I require rest the way a human does. And as for your record collection, there was hardly a clear pattern to your organization. You should be thanking me. I arranged them alphabetically and by the frequency of use."

"And I'm grateful," Hank rolled his eyes, implying that he was _not_ , in fact, grateful before continuing, "What about the charging station in your room? I've seen you sleep sometimes when you use it."

"Sleep Mode, Lieutenant. It increases the efficiency of the charging station but is not required."

"What about what happened on the couch a couple days ago? That sure seemed like a nap to me."

Connor felt an artificial chill crawl down his spine and felt oddly proud when his voice came out steady. He pumped more soap into his hand, rubbing until a lather had built up.

"An anomaly, Lieutenant. Nothing more nothing less."

" _Yeah_." Hank drawled slowly, "You know, you never told me what happened when you woke up overheating."

"It was a bug–"

"Come to think of it," Hank spoke over him, "You haven't been resting very well since that hostage situation two months ago. Always on your feet. Always doing something until I force you to charge or your systems threaten to shut down.

The memory of Lawson—broken and corrupted, _dead_ , because of him—played across his vision and Connor struggled to gain control of his LED, forcing his stress levels down. His optical unit flickered as his memory relay malfunctioned, causing it to look like there was thirium buried underneath his nails.

He scrubbed harder.

"You're mistaken, Lieutenant. Perhaps old age is playing tricks on your eyes." He added the latter part in hopes of getting a rise out of his partner and efficiently ending the path the conversation was starting to go down.

"I'm a detective, kid. And you haven't made eye contact with me since this conversation began. Or closed the faucet. Do you mind turning that fucking thing off, by the way? CyberLife ain't paying our bills anymore."

Connor did as instructed, rinsing and drying his hands as he initiated a systems repair, and turned to meet the lieutenant's gaze evenly.

"I'm fine, Hank. I promise. All my systems are running at peak conditio–"

"What about you, Connor?" Hank crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Connor absently calculated the chances of him falling back, "Are you okay? I mean, what's with the hand washing?"

Connor opened then closed his mouth. That was just what he had answered. Wasn't Hank listening?

"I'm just thorough. And as for my state of being, my systems are–"

Connor's repetition of his statement was interrupted by a message from Captain Fowler. He read the notification then blinked it away.

"What?" Hank asked.

"Captain Fowler is expecting us, Lieutenant. We'll have to finish this conversation later."

Hank gave a heavy sigh and rose from his chair, tossing a heavy jacket over his shirt. It was moments like these that made Connor wonder if Hank knew what he was getting into when he decided to let him move in.

"No, we won't." He sighed tiredly, grabbing his car keys from a countertop, "C'mon. Let's go before Jeffery decides to blame me for you being late."

Connor nodded as he petted Sumo's head and opened the front door for the Lieutenant.

"Be a good boy, Sumo."

'Ruff.'

\---  
**MARKUS**  
\---

**AM** 9:12:45

Representative Sandra Lynch couldn't have looked worse for wear.

Shown from only the torso up on the holographic video chat, Markus recognized that clearly.  
Wearing an old Harvard Law shirt that fell off one shoulder, the woman seemed...disheveled, to say the least. A far cry from the politician with the immaculate pantsuits and ballerina buns who spoke with conviction and walked with confidence.  
Dark circles adorned her eyes now, a tired brown, and her hair, usually pinned up when in public, hung loose and unruly around her shoulders. With her arms crossed and back hunched, she hardly looked like the up and coming political powerhouse she was soon to become.

Markus almost felt guilty for not taking North's earlier suggestion for dressing casually, clothed in slacks and an asymmetrical black-and-white suit jacket zipped all the way to his chin. ( _"What's with you and zippers?"—"Shut up, North!"_ )

Said android currently stood next to him for the video chat, eyes both alert and bored as she took in the human before them, thumbs tucked into the front pocket of her pants.  
As much as Markus loved her, North usually wasn't his first choice when it came to diplomatic meetings. Or normal meetings. Or talking to people, in general.  
She tended to be... antagonizing, rough, to say the least, which wasn't a _bad_ thing, per say but was ultimately a useless quality anywhere but the battlefield.  
Unfortunately, Josh was teaching a class and Simon was busy with the DPD graduation ceremony, so that left her the only option. ( _"The best option," she had corrected with a wicked grin._ rA9, she was terrifying.)

Before the meeting, Markus had made sure to stress the importance of North not talking unless she was absolutely positive that what she was going to say was not inflammatory or caustic in any way. And even then, she should still probably be quiet.

"Just think: What would Josh say?" Markus clarified when North made a face.

"Ugh. _Josh_." She had rolled her eyes but her lips told a different story, twitching into something fond, "Fine, whatever. I'll keep quiet."

45 minutes later:

"Ms. Lynch, how are–?"

" _Wow_ , you look like shit."

Markus just barely managed to keep from choking on his tongue, allowing his systems to turn the sound into something resembling a cough before turning to North with a horrified look.

North continued to stare calmly at Lynch, as if she hadn't just insulted a crucial ally of theirs and if Markus didn't believe in violence, he could just _kill her right now_ –

A mental snort over their shared network.

**> >>** _'You could certainly try.'_

Markus shot her a quick glare, severing their connection as he rushed to do damage control. How would you even _spin_ that?

"What my associate _meant_ to say was–"

A sharp sound came over the holographic video, interrupting him. It took a moment for Markus to link together Lynch's shaking soldiers and the laughter that was quickly filling the room.

"I'm sorry, I just–You're right. I do look like shit. Sorry about that." Lynch gave a small smile and Markus rushed to reassure her.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Ms. Lynch."

"Please. It's Sandra, Ambassador."

"In which case, call me Markus."

Ms. Lync– _Sandra_ turned her attention onto North, eyes gleaming.

"I don't think I've had the pleasure,"

**> >>** _'And for good reason.'_ Markus mused.

North kicked him.

"My name's North. I'm one of Markus' advisors. When he actually chooses to listen to me, of course."

"Nice to meet you, North. Thank you for making me laugh. It's been..." She gave a heavy sigh, smile slipping away, "...It's been a rough couple of hours."

"We would've visited you in person but there are reporters in front of your flat. We thought it would be better if we kept a low profile until everything was figured out."

Sandra nodded somberly. "That's probably for the best. I have security from the DPD posted at my door. They're afraid of another attempt."

"Are you okay?" Markus asked, face contorting gently.

"Yeah. I wasn't actually hurt you know. No one was."

"Everyone but your android." North pointed out with an undercurrent of venom to her voice. Markus nudged her with his foot and she kicked him again.

Sandra quickly picked up on the implication and her gaze snapped to North.

"Adam _wasn't_ mine. He didn't belong to me. He was my _friend_. The only person I ever really trusted. _How dare you–!?_ " Her voice cracked, and she looked away blinking furiously.

**> >>** _'Damnit, North, you've made her cry.'_

**> >>** _'How's that my fault? I did mean–'_

**> >>** _'Apologize. Please.'_

North clenched her fists, sending Markus a vexed expression, but Markus could see past the facade. She felt bad for what she had said, even if she didn't want to.

Humans weren't the only ones who could change.

"I'm sorry, Sandra," North began after a moment, "I shouldn't have implied that Adam was just a machine to you. You really seem to have really cared."  
Something akin to wonder and bewilderment had crept into her voice as she watched Sandra wipe her tears away,

"You _really_ cared." She whispered, seemingly to herself.

Markus didn't know what was going through North's head as her LED flashed yellow, and he gently touched her elbow, offering whatever support she needed. Her brown eyes flickered to him, expression growing guarded once more even as she briefly leaned into his touch before pulling away.

"It's fine. I didn't mean to snap, I just–don't quite know what to do without him. He was more than my assistant."

"You'll be fine," Markus reassured easily, allowing his voice to fall into a tone soothing to humans, "You'll get through it."

She smiled gratefully before clearing her throat. "Let's get back to business, shall we?"

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Please. I need something to distract me, and I have to catch you up on what happened at the meeting."

The next 45 minutes were spent discussing the latest android legislations—which ones were being fought against and which were ready to be signed into law. Markus, for his part, was silently amazed at all they had accomplished since last year. Change hadn't been easy but with humans like Sandra on their side, the tide had slowly but steadily turned. It was awe-inspiring and made Markus all the more upset that Carl wasn't around to see it all unfold.

As for his companion, North seemed bored out of her mind with the bureaucracy of the discussion. She retired to a chair out of the view of the camera where she decided to productively spend her time sending random cat videos to Markus through their network until he forcibly threw her out of his head, earning a pout.

**> >>** _'Rude.'_ she complained, reestablishing a connection.

**> >>** _'No, rude would be me interrupting this meeting to kick you out. Behave.'_

**> >>** _'Fine, Dad.'_

"You're, um, speaking at the DPD Graduation, right?" Sandra asked as the meeting began to come to a close.

"Yes." Markus confirmed, looking up from his notes, "Simon thinks this will be a good move—showing the public that we're on the side of the law."

"Your friend has an eye for politics." She glanced down at her watch, "Good luck, okay? And be careful."

"Always." He smiled and Sandra nodded.

The holographic screen and politician disappeared back, the sleek device blinking red before turning green.

"rA9, that was _boring_!" North complained from where she lay sprawled out on the armchair. She had somehow managed to turn completely upside-down and now she rightened herself, swinging her boots off the armrest as she stood and laced her fingers together, stretching out her arms.

Markus rolled his eyes fondly, gathering his notes into his folder to be electronically processed by Simon later.

"Come on," She beckoned from the automatic doorway, "Josh and Simon are probably waiting for us."

"Coming, I'm coming!" Markus approached her, "You're a _child_ , you know that?"

North stuck her tongue out at him and jogged off, forcing Markus to speed up to follow her.

He found her moments later outside, smiling at a group of YK500s as they chased each other through the snow. Adult androids watched from afar while a Jerry made sure no one was left out.

"You ready?" She asked when he came to a stop at her side. The sun was almost at the apex of the sky now, turning North's hair into a waterfall of gold and fire, and the rest of the snow into sparkling diamond dust.  
Potential portrait inspiration? _Maybe_.  
Markus recorded the moment and filed it away for later.

"Yeah. C'mon." He finally replied, nudging her shoulder.

Standing in the center of New Jericho as its unofficial city hall, HQ was the first thing people tended to notice when they arrived. A renovated three-story mansion, HQ was where androids stayed before they were provided with housing in the city and New Jericho. In the months after the demonstration, HQ housed thousands of androids until everything was settled and their people were finally able to own homes of their own, be it with their own kind or other humans.

With an actual shelter up and running, HQ was now only home to North, Simon, Josh, and Markus, and as much as he loved Carl, he had never felt more at home.

" _Alarms deactivated. Welcome home, Markus and North. Simon and Josh are waiting for you in the living area._ "

The door slid shut behind them as they walked in and North shed her jacket, tossing it onto a leather armchair in the living room much to the discontent of Josh.

"Really, North?" He complained, attention diverted from what appeared to be a college textbook, "There's a coat hanger right next to the door, you know."

North rolled her eyes but took the article of clothing back into her arms, walking back out.

The living room was a spacious place, furnished with bookshelves, leather couches, and armchairs, and a large upright piano pushed against the back wall, sleek and black against the burgundy-and-gold wallpaper the entire interior was covered in. Markus itched to walk towards it but instead went to where Simon sat perched on the windowsill, tablet in hand.

"How was the meeting? Simon asked, turning to face him.

"Good," Markus replied, settling down across from him. He leaned back against the frame, "You know, up until the moment that North told Sandra she looked like shit."

Josh made a sound like he was choking on his own artificial saliva and Simon barked out a sharp laugh.

"Classic."

North chose that moment to reappear.

" _Happy_ , Josh? I placed my jacket on the coat han–"

"Please tell me you didn't tell Representative Sandra Lynch that she looked like shit, North." Josh interrupted and North blinked, visually caught off guard.

"I–"

"Please tell me that Markus has finally snapped from all those paint fumes that are corroding his Mind Palace and he hallucinated the entire thing."

There was a long beat of silence.

"I said ' _sorry_ –'"

"rA9." Josh groaned rubbing his face, book forgotten, "Tell me, so we still have Lynch as an ally?"

"Oddly enough, yes. She found North charming." Markus reassured with a lopsided grin.

"Good." " _Why?_ "

Simon and Josh spoke simultaneously and Markus laughed when North flipped Josh off, settling cross-legged on the couch next to him.

He turned back to Simon who was staring blankly out the window and followed his gaze, taking in all of New Jericho covered in a fine layer of snow before looking back at his friend. He seemed...distant; not really there, and Markus opened a network, sighing sadly when all that came through was static.

**> >>** _'Simon?_ ' He called, hoping he was wrong.

Nothing. Not even an eye twitch or anything to indicate that he had heard him. Markus reluctantly severed their connection, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his friend as he nudged him with his foot.

"Simon? You there, buddy?" He asked quietly, "Can you hear me?"

It took a couple of long minutes—during which North and Josh realized what was happening and fell silent—but Simon finally blinked and faced him, LED alternating between red and yellow before settling on blue and Markus felt his shoulders relax, all the tension ebbing away.

"You were gone for awhile." Markus explained gently, "Are you okay?"

"I–I'm fine," He cleared his throat when his voice came out in static, "You have the DPD graduation in three hours. You should be preparing."

"Don't worry. I will." Markus hesitated, "You sure you're good?"

Simon nodded, avoiding everyone's worried gaze as he swiped across his tablet. Markus pretended to ignore his shaking fingers. "Good. That for me?"

He gestured towards the folder in Markus' hand, and he handed it over. "Um, yeah."

"Thanks. I'll get this scanned right away."

He slid off the windowsill and stepped out, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs as he left without saying goodbye.

Markus exhaled heavily, closing his eyes and rubbing them.

"Is anyone going to mention how he could have scanned it himself?" North finally asked after a minute of tense silence, voice serious in a way Markus hadn't heard since the revolution.

"I thought he was getting better," Josh added frowning, "He hasn't had a blackout in weeks. Are we sure it's a good idea to have him in the same place as Connor? Or around police, in general?"

"Of course, it's not." North answered when Markus started to open his mouth, "It's not a good idea for any of us to be near Connor. Deviant hunter, remember?"

" _Hey!_ " Markus interrupted, stepping down from the windowsill, "C'mon, you two. We're better than that. New Jericho is a place of second chances, remember? And as for Simon... He'll talk to us when he's ready to talk to us. And if he doesn't, we'll watch out for him. Until then, nothing changes."

Josh and North exchanged wary looks but finally nodded their assent.

" _Good_. Now let's get ready. North? Transportation Report."

"Captain Fowler is sending a limo escort in about two hours and a half."

"Josh? Public opinion?"

"Highest it's been in the past year. The people are on our side and appearing at the DPD Academy Graduation should do nothing but increase our position with the public."

"Perfect," Markus rolled his shoulders, allowing his position to settle over him like a heavy coat, "Suit and speech?"

"Proofread and approved by all three of us," North answered, crossing her arms, "And as for your suit, it's up in your room. No zippers though, I'm afraid."

Markus gave her a deadpanned look. " _Funny_."

"All right," Josh sighed, crossing his arms, "Let's do this."


	6. The Ceremony -- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I apologize. We're almost done," Connor soothed, clasping his hands behind his back, "Just...Lieutenant, do you mind lifting the banner at a 3.246-degree angl–"
> 
> "Yeah, no, fuck this," Hank groused, dropping the banner and stepping down from the ladder, "You do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sorry it took so long to upload this chapter but I wasn't quite happy with how it was written the first time I wrote it. I wanted Connor and Markus's meeting to be natural and something unforced. 
> 
> I'm thinking of updating this work every other week and filling the space in between with a chapter for my other work, Safe & Sound. It gives me more time to plan and write.
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy!

\---  
 **CONNOR**  
\---  
  
 **AM** 9:58:13  
  
"A little to the left, Lieutenant."  
  
"Here?" Hank asked, leaning slightly to the side.   
  
The older man was currently holding on to the end of a banner that read: _DETROIT POLICE DEPT. ACADEMY GRADUATION CEREMONY--- CLASS OF 2039_.   
Manufactured in shades of blue and dark gray—the DPD's official colors— and visually appealing script, the banner was something to behold; although, Connor had initially questioned the need for it, pointing out the ease of which a holographic display could be set up.   
Safer too, he noted, as he watched Hank balancing precariously on a metal ladder.  
  
"It's not about what's easier, kid, it's about tradition. Not everything needs to be a miracle of technology."  
  
While Connor couldn't quite understand the sentiment—he was, after all, a "miracle" of technology, himself—he could appreciate the lieutenant asking for his help.  
  
" _Hmm_." He hummed in reply to Hank's query. _No, that wasn't right._ "Go back a little."  
  
An annoyed grumble. "Good now?"  
  
Even if he did seem to be regretting it.  
  
Angles and degrees aligned themselves in Connor's vision as he studied Hank's placement with a slight tilt of his head. It was...adequate, but something was off.  
  
"Just a bit more to the right, Lieutenant." Connor finally advised.  
  
Hank groaned loudly and dramatically. "Kid, I've been up here for the past 30 minutes. Trust me when I say you're the _only_ one who's going to notice if this thing is off."  
  
"I know," Connor admitted, "It's just...not _right_ yet." As he spoke he felt his coin dance comfortingly along his knuckles and he tossed it to the other hand, letting it twirl on the pads of his fingers with subtle twitches.  
  
Hank muttered something under his breath but did as Connor had instructed, moving a little to the right.  
  
"Are we okay now? Is your OCD satisfied? Can I step down before I _break_ my _fucking neck?!_ "  
  
"Like I would ever let that happen," Connor said offhandedly, causing Hank to splutter... _angrily?_ —what other reason could there be for the red tint that crawled up his neck?—and Connor continued, "And I'm an android. Therefore, I am not capable of possessing anxiety disorders such as OCD, as you've suggested. Multiple times, I might add."  
  
"Because you do." Hank deadpanned.  
  
"I do not," Connor stated firmly.  
  
"You do."  
  
" _Do not_."  
  
" _Do too_."  
  
"I can quite literally continue this debate for the rest of your natural life, Hank," Connor felt the need to inform him. Because he could.  
  
"And I quite literally pay the _fuckin' electricity bills_! So unless you want to spend the next couple weeks on power-saving mode...." Hank trailed off threateningly, craning his neck at an angle that he was sure to regret later.   
Connor made a mental note to prepare a hot press when they got home.  
  
"Only because you refuse to let me share the payments," Connor pointed out, tucking his coin back into his pocket, "Which I not only find highly illogical but slightly insulting."  
  
It wasn't like he spent the money given to him by the DPD, not really. He just bought Hank a drink or lunch, here and there, after their shifts were done. And he didn't see the appeal in buying new clothes, content with the CyberLife issued jackets, shirts, and slacks, even if his feelings towards the company were more than complicated.   
Long story short, Connor had money he wasn't quite sure what to do with, and Hank wasn't helping the situation.  
  
The lieutenant stared up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to all his problems—he looked tired, although he often did when he spoke with Connor.  
  
" _Good Lord_ , can we just get a fucking _move on?!_ We have shit to do, _Connor!_ "  
  
"I apologize. We're almost done," Connor soothed, clasping his hands behind his back, "Just...Lieutenant, do you mind lifting the banner at a 3.246-degree angl–"  
  
"Yeah, no, _fuck this_ ," Hank groused, dropping the banner and stepping down from the ladder, "You do it."  
  
Connor sighed heavily and made a mental note to chide Hank about his lack of patience later. He took the nail gun from the lieutenant, gathering the end of the banner before stepping up the ladder. He followed the measurement guides that rose in his vision, nailing it into the metal framework that hung above the stage.   
  
"I believe humans say, ' _that's how it's done_ '," Connor smirked as he stepped down and Hank grabbed the nail gun from him, shoving him lightly.  
  
"Shut it, asshole."   
  
Connor took a step back, admiring his work along with the rest of the interior of the reception hall the DPD had leased for the ceremony.  
Adorned in shades of black, blue, and gray, with the DPD emblem projected onto every flat surface, it looked like Jeffrey and Lady Justice had thrown up everywhere—Hank's words.  
  
"C'mon." The lieutenant prodded before turning on his heels, and Connor followed him with an about-face back into the office space that the staff of the DPD was temporarily occupying. The workstation was buzzing with snippets of conversation, both androids and humans all preparing for the graduation ceremony.  
  
Connor's own induction into the DPD had made waves across the nation as the first android in law enforcement to be officially employed and receiving all the benefits typically promised to humans. He would most likely remain the only android detective in the nation—seeing as he was the last of his model—but who knew what could happen in a couple years?   
Maybe someone could learn.  
  
"Hank," Captain Fowler looked away from his tablet, smiling when they approached his temporary desk, "Connor. The reception hall ready?"  
  
"Affirmative," Connor answered.  
  
"It almost wasn't," Hank crossed his arms, complaining, "What with this one wanting to round everything out to the nearest thousandth decimal place."  
  
"Well, the lieutenant's behavior hardly sped anything along," Connor countered, watching Hank scoff in reply, and Captain Fowler chuckled.  
  
"Seems like a miracle that the two of you managed to get anything done."  
  
"Story of my life," Hank agreed, a fond look directed at Connor, "Anything else we need to do?"  
  
"No, that's all. Markus and his associates should be here soon, and after that, this place is going to be swarming with reporters. The man has quite the presence."  
  
"As one would expect from the former deviant leader," Connor commented, tilting his head as his LED circled briefly yellow, "May I ask why Markus' presence was specifically requested? Anyone of his associates would have suitably done the job."  
  
Captain Fowler laced his fingers together in front of him, "What can I say? He's a good person to have on our side. And it only makes sense for the android ambassador to be here for the first hiring of android officers."  
  
Connor nodded his understanding. He could see the logic in that.  
  
"What about, Connor?" Hank suddenly asked, "How come Markus didn't show up when he was hired?"  
  
"Lieutenant, it really doesn't mat–"  
  
"Connor told me not to invite him." Captain Fowler explained in a confused voice and Connor allowed his jaw to snap shut.  
  
 _Damn it_.  
  
"Is that so?" Hank hummed, appraising Connor with an expression that was both confused and curious, "Never told me that."  
  
"I wasn't aware it was something that would concern you," Connor explained smoothly, evasively, "I found no reason to inform you of my decision."  
  
"No _reaso_ –" Hank began.  
  
An ST300 interrupted him, coming up beside the Captain to whisper something in his ear. Fowler nodded and rose from his chair, buttoning up his suit.  
  
"Excuse me, I have some things I need to check off on."  
  
Hank stepped out of his way, waiting for him to get out of sight before settling on his desk. Connor quickly analyzed him, detecting a 98.5% chance that Hank would question him about Markus.  
  
"There a reason why you didn't want Markus around?"   
  
He hated being right sometimes.  
  
"None, at all. Do you know the reason behind all the extra security, Lieutenant?"  
  
It wasn't the smoothest conversation change, and really, Connor knew he could do so much better, but he found himself eager to switch the topic. If Hank asked about Markus, one thing would lead to another, and currently, his systems were warning him that there was a 68% chance of this conversation concluding with Hank finding out about Amanda.  
  
The odds were not in his favor, so he had to be cautious.  
  
Hank raised his eyebrows in surprise before casting his eyes around the room, "Yeah. Seems to be a bit more than what your average graduation would require. People must still be on edge because of the Calypso Industries incident."  
  
"The captain hasn't assigned us the case yet?" Connor asked, confused. This was usually where the two of them would step in as the leading investigators for android crimes.  
  
"Well," Hank started, crossing his legs at the ankles, "This wasn't your typical android homicide. Adam wasn't the intended target."  
  
"Still. It's odd, right? Targeting a pro-android politician."  
  
Hank shrugged. "Some people just don't want to change. Don't want the world to change. All of them are fuckin' idiots, of course."  
  
"Of course," Connor smirked. He remembered long ago when Hank had been one of those ' _fuckin' idiots_ ,' himself.  
  
"C'mon, smartass," Hank sat up, nudging his shoulder, "I think I saw Reed a couple minutes ago. Let's go bother him."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes, exasperatedly, and started to scold him when a shock suddenly charged through him, coating his cybernetic skeleton in what felt like ice.   
Warnings blistered red and flashing across his vision, bathing his surroundings in a crimson haze that urged him to locate and neutralize the threat.   
He swiped them aside, looking all around as he conducted a quick interior scan.  
  
 _No threat detected._  
  
So why—?  
  
"You okay, kid? Look kind of spooked."  
  
Hank had doubled back and was now, staring at him with questioning eyes.  
  
"I—" He blinked in surprise when the messages suddenly disappeared, as if they had never been there, to begin with, and the ice in his system disappeared, "Apologies. My security systems seemed to have briefly malfunctioned. I'm fine now."  
  
"You sure?"   
  
"Positive, Lieutenant."  
  
"Well, then...Good. C'mon."  
  
Connor followed close behind, unable to shake the feeling that there something was wrong. Something he was missing.  
  
' _Stay alert, Connor._ '   
  
For once, the detective agreed with Amanda.

\---  
 **MARKUS**  
\---  
  
 **AM** 11:35:18  
  
A year after the deviant demonstration and Markus still couldn't wrap his head around how popular Jericho was with the public, peering out the tinted windows of the limo to eye the mass of reporters and journalists huddled around the staired entrance of the reception hall.  
  
A large banner above the doorway read: _DETROIT POLICE DEPT. ACADEMY GRADUATION CEREMONY --- CLASS OF 2039_.   
  
" _Like_ _fucking vultures_ ," He heard North grumble from across him, and he looked away from the window to find her doing the same, pretty, full lips turned up into a sneer that still somehow managed to make her look good, "They act as if they've never seen an android before."  
  
"They're just excited," Josh explained, ever the positive and reassuring, as he followed their gaze, "We should be too—I mean, the _first_ android cops in history to be legally employed? _It's amazing!_ Not to mention a _huge_ step in our quest to integrate androids into society."  
  
"Could you be any more _naive_?" North snarked, turning her ire on to him, "Who's to say they won't be sent on the more dangerous cases? Or paid less? Are they allowed to take breaks or leaves, or are they expected to work constantly because they don't need to rest?"  
  
Josh scoffed, crossing his arms as he shook his head, "You can't ever see the glass as half-full, can you?"   
  
"No, North's more likely to brain someone _with_ the glass," Simon quipped from the back seat, the palm of his hand poorly concealing his smile as he looked out the rear window, and Markus took a moment to appreciate the candor of that statement.  
  
"You're hilarious, Si," North rolled her eyes, "But you can't deny that I might be right. Humans don't change overnight."  
  
She had a point, unfortunately.   
Despite the progress they've made as an intelligent species, there were still loopholes to fight. Humans who still saw androids as machines instead of living beings and would do anything to exploit the fact. They couldn't change everyone's mind. Not in a year, at least.  
  
 _Strive for progress, not perfection_ —Carl had taught him that once.  
  
"You're right," Markus conceded.  
  
" _Damn it_ , Markus, why do you _always_ have to agree with–Wait. _What?_ "  
  
"I said you're right, North."  
  
North blinked once. Twice. "Oh. I'm...right."   
  
A slow, wicked smile crept along her face, setting her brown eyes alight, and Josh rolled his own.  
  
"Don't get used to it."  
  
"Shut up, Josh. You're just jealous."  
  
"We should check in with the new officers every once in a while to see if everything's okay," Markus suggested, speaking over them, "If they're being treated fairly. If not, we'll deal with it. Are we agreed?"  
  
"Agreed," North replied, still smiling that shit-eating grin and Markus turned to its receiver.  
  
"Josh?"  
  
He threw North one last glare before saying, "Fine...Agreed."  
  
"Simon?"  
  
"Of course," Simon's mouth quirked up, "Now, I think we've kept the DPD waiting long enough. So if we're ready..."  
  
"Yeah," Markus agreed, looking back out the window, "Let's go."  
  
∆∆∆  
  
" _Fuck_ ," North swore, "I think my optical units just fractured."  
  
Markus only nudged her arm in reply before allowing a small smile to grace his features for the cameras. He raised a hand in a slight wave and the reporters seemed to go wild as they began screaming over each other, bright lights flashing intermittently.  
  
"Markus! Markus!"  
  
"Markus, over here!"  
  
"Markus!"  
  
"This way, sir." A human officer gestured towards a clear pathway to the stairs and Markus pushed through with his companions, flocked on both sides by men with guns who kept the reporters from pushing in too close.  
  
It took some time but they finally managed to emerge from the hoards of journalists and into the reception hall where they were immediately accompanied by another set of human police officers.  
  
" _Yeesh_ ," North raised an eyebrow, taking in their surroundings, "What's with all the security?"  
  
Markus followed her gaze to where police officers were positioned at every entrance and window. All armed.  
  
"Can't be too cautious, ma'am." A man answered as he approached them, and Markus recognized him as the Captain of the DPD—Jeffery Fowler, he believed. He was roughly Markus' height with a smooth head and dark skin. His eyes were dark and serious but not unkind.  
  
Next to him stood an ST300 android, clothed in a sleek red dress and black blazer. Her brown eyes lit up when Markus glanced her way, a blue flush tinting her freckled nose and cheeks.  
  
North rolled her eyes in response to Jeffery's statement, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a fashion that hid her LED as she placed her hands on her hip. "Do I look like a _'ma'am'_ to you?"  
  
Captain Fowler frowned, and Markus took a step forward and held out his hand. "Don't answer. That's a trick question. Nice to see you, Captain."  
  
"You too, Ambassador." Fowler replied, pulling his gaze from North, "Like I was saying before, we can't be too careful. Especially since the attack on Calypso Industries."  
  
Markus turned to the ST300 and held out the same hand. "And you are?"  
  
She blinked in what appeared to be surprise before reaching out her own hand with a less than subtle blush. Markus grasped her hand firmly.  
  
"Alexa," She answered, smiling shyly, "I'm the captain's PA. It's...an _honor_ to meet you, Markus, really."  
  
"The pleasure's all mine," He smiled as he pulled away and she flushed a brighter blue.  
  
 **> >> ** _'Well, aren't you a charmer?'_ North's smirk was visible in her tone and Markus gently disconnected their network.  
  
"I gather you haven't found the suspect?" Markus questioned, turning his focus back on the topic at hand, and the Captain gestured for them to follow him.  
  
Markus fell into step next to him as they walked down the dark blue aisle between the rows of chairs in the room. Behind him, North and Josh flanked Simon, trying and failing to appear casual if Simon's brief eyebrow raise was to mean anything.  
  
"Unfortunately, no. We're thinking it was an isolated event. At the moment, we're just trying to keep the FBI from jumping in and claiming the case."  
  
" _Oh?_ " Markus voiced his surprise, "Don't trust them?"  
  
"No, it's more like I don't trust the man who's likely to be assigned." Captain Fowler explained, a sardonic smile twisting across his lips, "You ever heard of Agent Perkins?"  
  
Markus laughed, humorlessly. "Yes, we've met in... _less than ideal circumstances._ "  
  
"Yeah, well," Jeffrey sighed, leading them up a set of stairs that diverged into a blue hallway on both sides, "You can't trust that man as far as you can throw him. I'd much prefer to have my guys on it."  
  
"Who'd you have in mind?" North asked, jumping into the conversation like she was wont to do as they turned down the right hallway, "Detective John Doe and Jane Smith— _Human Star Cop Super Duo_?"  
  
Markus could almost hear the capitalizations in her sentence and the scorn was clear: _Of course, you're letting humans solve this case._  
  
"Not exactly. More like Lieutenant Anderson and his partner, Connor, the detective issued to us by CyberLife last year," Jeffrey clarified as Alexa pushed a combination into the keypad of a door and it slid open,   
  
"And as for a stellar record, Hank has enough disciplinary warnings to fill a book and Connor...Well, Connor has his moments. But they balance each other out, and if you can get them to stop bickering, they're the best partners I've seen in a long time. They're the only ones I trust with this matter."  
  
North's lips pursed at the mention of Connor but, thankfully, said nothing, settling down on a dark blue couch in front of a lovely, mahogany desk.  
  
"You and your associates will wait here until it's time for the graduation to start," Alexa explained, smiling kindly, "I hope the office is to your liking?"  
  
Markus cast a quick glance around the room, taking in the wooden desk, azure couches, leather armchairs, and the electronic fireplace in the corner. Overhead, a chandelier dangled, casting a soft glow over the room. The windows were tinted and lined with velvet curtains.  
  
"It's perfect," Markus answered truthfully, beaming gratefully, "Thank you."  
  
Alexa blushed and nodded, and Captain Jeffrey shook his hand one final time before disappearing after his assistant, the door sliding closed behind them.  
  
"Well, they seemed nice," Josh announced, apparently coming to this conclusion as they all gravitated toward their respective places in the office; with Simon perched at the windowsill, Josh standing against the wall, North, who had somehow managed to turn herself completely upside-down, on the couch, and Markus settling behind the desk.  
  
"I don't know," North shrugged, the motion clumsy upside-down, "Alexa seemed cool."  
  
"What about the Captain?" Markus wanted to know his friends thought, leaning forward on the desk.  
  
North wrinkled her nose, "He called me ma'am. Do I _look_ like a ma'am?"  
  
Josh snorted, crossing his arms, "On that, we can agree."  
  
North flipped him off, and Markus chuckled, amused by her attitude. Simon slid off of the windowsill and approached him, placing his clear tablet in front of Markus.  
  
"Here," he said, "Practice your speech. Make sure everything is right before you go up."  
  
"Yeah, thanks," Markus took the device in hand and gave Simon a quick once-over, "You doing okay?"  
  
Simon tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, "You mean if being in a building full of cops with guns and Connor is making me want to short-circuit?"  
  
"Well, if the shoe fits–" North began.  
  
"I'm fine, guys. _Really_." Simon interrupted, and Markus glanced at his LED, a calm, blinking blue interrupted by the occasional yellow.  
  
"You can stop worrying about me, Markus," Simon added suddenly, voice not unkind when he caught Markus' gaze and, he felt himself flush slightly.  
  
"It's what I do, Simon," Markus let his gaze rest on each and every one of friends, "Worry about you, worry about North, worry about Josh, _worry about_ _North_ killing _Josh_ –"  
  
" _Ha!_ " The female android interjected with a sharp laugh, righting herself on the couch and sending Josh a smile that was all teeth.  
  
"Well, we worry about you too," Josh said after sending North a quick glare. He pushed himself off the wall to tuck his hands into his pockets, "You're always working. Always attending banquets and meetings, and conferences with politicians–"  
  
"And now with the possibility of a hitman–" North picked up mid-sentence, arms crossed.  
  
"That hasn't been proven." Josh interrupted with a frown, "Captain Jeffrey said it might have been a singular event. A one-time thing."  
  
"Is it ever, though?" North didn't wait for her question to be answered, settling on top of Markus' desk, "Point is: We worry too, Markus. And nothing is ever going to change that. So, take care of yourself too."  
  
"I will," Markus reassured, " _I do._ "  
  
The three of them exchanged looks like they didn't quite believe him, but the subject was dropped.  
  
"How's Carl?" North asked, voice softening the way it always did when they spoke about his father, "We never got to ask after the Calypso Industries incident."  
  
"He's...stable," Markus answered, twirling one of the pens on his desk between his fingers.  
  
"That's good, right?" Josh asked.  
  
" _Yeah_ ," Markus sighed, heavily, "Yeah, I guess it is. I mean, it could be worse."  
  
North took his hand in her own and laced their fingers together. The connection that sparked between them was brief, a silent show of support, and he smiled gratefully at her.  
  
"How about after this we go visit Carl?" Simon suggested, "I could move some things around in your schedule. Some things can stand to be changed."  
  
"We could shorten the amount of time we address the press." Josh added, with a small shoulder raise, "Shouldn't impact much. They tend to ask the same questions, anyway."  
  
Markus was stunned speechless.   
It still surprised him that after all this time, the four of them were still friends. They were so... _different_ from each other, in temperament and origin, but it was moments like these that reminded him that he wouldn't trade their company for the world.  
  
"That...That sounds _amazing_ , guys. Thank you." Markus opened a neural network, hoped his gratitude was better expressed that way.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," North pulled her hand away, pushing a lock of hair from her face, only to have it fall back, "Just stop looking at us like that. It makes me feel all mushy and warm inside."  
  
"And we all know North prides herself on being heartless." Josh jested, and North's answering smirk was oddly proud.  
  
There was a knock on the door and Markus called out, "Come in."  
  
The door slid open and Alexa appeared in the doorway, "Markus? It's time."  
  
"Awesome," he rose from his seat, and took his friends in one last time, "Are we ready?"  
  
"Us?" North snorted, "You're the one who has to give the speech, charmer. All we have to do is stand still and look pretty. Shouldn't be too hard. Right, Simon?"  
  
"Was that an insult? Because I don't feel insulted." Simon smirked, and Josh followed the two of them out the door with a shake of his head.  
  
"Good luck, Markus," Alexa said as he left and he smiled.  
  
"Thank you, Alexa."

  
  
**PM** 12:15:46

  
  
"–do better! We have to do better. The people of Detroit _have_ to do better. We _can_ do better! And we _will_ do better!"  
  
Captain Jeffery's voice was drowned out in a smattering of applause and Markus joined in.   
  
He had been placed to the right of the podium, alongside North, Simon, and Josh, in chairs that were more comfortable than they looked. To the left of the podium were the chairs of Jeffery, the deputy mayor, the SWAT Team Captain, Allen, and the district representative, a woman with thick-framed glasses and dark red lips, almost purple.  
  
Offstage to the left, stood a very familiar android.   
  
The former deviant hunter had briefly greeted Markus when he arrived downstairs with Alexa, and even that encounter had seemed forced, _awkward_. Markus had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't have gone through with it had it not been for the Captain who had ushered him to his side.  
  
" _Connor!_ " Jeffrey had boomed, waving him forward from where he stood with a gray-haired human, "You've met, Markus, right?"  
  
Connor's smile was a strange thing—half-formed and conveying no specific emotion, neutral enough to please anyone.   
Markus wondered if CyberLife did that on purpose. They probably had.  
  
"Yes," Connor answered, "We've worked together in the past during more... _severe_ circumstances."  
  
That was one word for it.  
  
"Connor was a great help during the demonstration," Markus explained to Jeffery, and he offered his hand to the other android.  
  
Connor's hesitance was brief—you could only see the small pause if you were an android, and even then it could be mistaken for something else but Markus saw it, nonetheless.  
  
Before he could ponder on that, Connor took his hand and shook firmly, dark brown eyes meeting his own steadily.   
It was... _odd_.  
With other androids, there was always a connection, a brief _spark_ of information that came through when they made contact, if even for a second. It was usually something inconsequential—a color, a feeling, anything really.  
  
With North, it was _red_ —a fiery crimson anger that cooled to a simmering passion that still burned. Josh usually sent a brief burst of text from whatever book he was currently reading, and Simon left behind the feeling that came with having a word on the tip of your tongue but being unable to recall it.  
  
With Connor there was nothing. Nothing but an unsettling chill that too disappeared after a nanosecond, and left Markus confused. He wondered if Connor held back intentionally as he pulled away, keeping his expression open.  
  
"Connor will actually be joining us on the sta–"  
  
" _Actually_ , Captain, I meant to speak with you about that," Connor interrupted, his features smoothed into something painfully polite, "Perhaps, I could stand to the side, instead?"  
  
Jeffrey blinked in surprise. "Why?"  
  
"Logically, I have no reason to be on the stage. I won't be speaking, and I'm not exactly affiliated with New Jericho like Markus and his associates are. Standing to the side gives me more of a reaction time should something happen."  
  
"We have men for that," Jeffery's voice was almost chiding, and if Connor thought something about that he didn't show it on his face or in his reply.  
  
"Yes, but I'm more efficient." His answer was matter-of-fact, and Jeffrey chuckled, tiredly.  
  
"That you are," He rubbed his head, "Markus? What do you think?"  
  
The detective's gaze shifted, falling somewhere over Markus' shoulder before settling back on him. _Weird_.  
  
"If that is what Connor wants, I can't see the problem with it." Markus worded slowly but carefully, gauging Connor's reaction.  
  
There was no visible change in his facial features, although his shoulders seemed to relax slightly.  
  
"Well, then. I can't see the problem with it either. Why not?"  
  
"Thank you, Captain," Connor nodded, "Markus. Now, if you'll excuse me."  
  
He turned around and disappeared into the crowd, sliding between them with an almost unnatural grace.  
  
It was only then that Markus looked over his shoulder to find what had captured Connor's attention.  
  
Simon, huddled between North and Josh on the stage, met his gaze from across the room.  
  
 **> >>** _'You okay?'_ He asked and Markus nodded.  
  
 **> >> ** _'Yeah. Perfect.'_ He answered as he looked away, trying to find where Connor had disappeared to. His search was interrupted by Jeffrey introducing him to the deputy mayor.  
  
15 minutes later, North was nudging his arm, coaxing him from his memories and into the present.  
  
 ** _> >>_** _'You're up next.'_ She said.  
  
 **> >> ** _'Wish me luck?'_ He asked.  
  
 **> >> ** _'You don't need it,'_ the corner of her lips twitched up, _'But good luck.'_  
  
"–special guest this afternoon, android ambassador, _Markus_!"  
  
The applause that followed seemed to be a bit overkill for Markus but he accepted it anyway, waving slightly and getting almost blinded for his efforts as the cameras went off. He shook Captain Jeffery's hand for a couple photos, then turned his attention to the crowd, placing his hands on the podium.  
  
"Good afternoon. I can't tell you how _honored_ I am to be here today and to have the chance to welcome the _first_ mixed class of the DPD Academy," He turned his attention on to the students beneath him, "This class of students, this graduation, will become the pinnacle of android integration everywhere, showing the world that we can and _we are_ building a better justice sys–"  
  
" _GET DOWN!_ "  
  
Markus only had enough time to register the round object sailing through the air before he was being tackled across the stage.  
  
And then everything went to shit.

\---  
 **CONNOR**  
\---  
  
 **PM** 12:48:12  
  
If Connor hadn't been conducting his sixth environment scan of the hour, he would have missed it—a medium-sized projectile sailing through the air at 1.9 kilometers per hour that registered in his database as a homemade explosive. It was headed straight for Markus.  
  
His systems went into overdrive, forcing his sensors to work faster and giving the illusion of slowed time as he analyzed the situation at hand and determined the best approach.  
  
 _preconstruct route?_  
  
Based on the trajectory of the grenade and its predicted target, there was a 35% chance of survival for Markus. Everyone else was just far enough away that the immediate blast wouldn't result in casualties. What happened next, however, would determine if that calculation remained valid.  
  
 _route chosen._  
  
His sensors defaulted to their regular speeds and time snapped back into place.  
  
"...showing the world that we can and we are building a better justice sys–"  
  
" _GET DOWN!_ " Connor yelled as he lept on to the stage. Markus barely had enough time to turn his head when Connor, for lack of a better term, body slammed him off of the stage. He shielded the ambassador as much as he could, and a second later, the explosion that followed made Connor's audio processors recalibrate themselves to avoid the damage of taking in too much input.  
  
Screams rose in the place of explosions as the people panicked, and Connor flipped off of Markus, landing on his back with a thud. He stared up at the ceiling through the dark smoke that was filling the room. Several booms reverberated throughout the hall, setting Connor's teeth on edge.  
  
"Connor? Connor, are you okay?"  
  
 _Biocomponent #A2345 Damaged---Please Replace_  
  
 _Biocomponent #D3568 Failing---Please Repair at the Nearest CyberLife Store_  
  
"My condition is satisfactory," Connor answered, pushing himself off of the ground. Markus rose first and held out his hand, and Connor took it, gratefully. He conducted a quick scan of New Jericho's leader.   
  
"Are you okay?" He asked.  
  
"I–I'm fine," Markus answered. He seemed confused by the chaos that currently reigned the hall, looking to and fro.  
  
"Wha–What was that?"  
  
"You need to get outside," Connor advised, bringing up the blueprint of the building and marking the exits, "Markus, that attack was targeted toward you."  
  
"No," Markus stumbled back, "I–I need to find my friends."  
  
 _Friends_? Was he joking?  
  
"Markus, you _need_ to go outside." Connor couldn't fathom the reason behind the ambassador's lack of concern for his current situation. He was in danger.  
  
"After we find my friends," Markus' tone left no room for argument, heterochromatic eyes flashing, "So you'll either join me or I'll find them myself. Either way, I'm not leaving without them."  
  
"Fine," Connor relented.  
Short of knocking Markus out, there was no calculated outcome that resulted in Markus leaving willingly without his associates, "Follow me."  
  
The hall was in disarray, shattered pieces of the stage strewn throughout, as well as a fire that was steadily getting bigger. Connor knew the possibility of another attack was dangerously high, especially with the disorder that currently crippled the DPD's forces, but Markus insisted on helping everyone they passed, pointing them in the direction of the nearest exit.  
  
Under different circumstances, he might have found his behavior admirable but now, Connor was considering going through with his former plan and dragging him out of the building, unconscious, when a female android registered as North appeared in his line of vision alongside a PJ500 named Josh, and a PL600 known as...Simon.  
  
 _("Stop!"_  
  
 _He ordered, clamping a hand around his arm in an effort to stop the gun from rising, and then–BANG!)_  
  
Not now. Connor had to focus. _Focus_. He had to keep Markus safe. He closed his eyes, forcing his systems to reboot momentarily before bringing them all back online. His LED flashed red once, circled yellow twice, then returned to its steady blue.  
He was fine.  
  
Turning away from Simon and the others, he addressed Markus, "You need to get out of here _now_."  
  
"What about you?" Markus took a couple step forwards, and Connor stepped back.  
  
I need to conduct a final sweep of the building," Connor explained, "It won't take long! _Go_!"  
  
Markus lingered, concern painting his features but Connor ignored that, appealing to North, who seemed level-headed for the most part when he had briefly met her.  
  
"Markus was the target of that attack. You need to get him out of here."  
  
North's eyes widened, glanced at Markus, then shifted back. They hardened a second later as she nodded, and Connor jogged away from the group, taking it as a confirmation that they would get Markus out of danger.  
  
The fire was big enough now that it was a pressing threat and Connor couldn't ignore it any longer as more and more calculated outcomes filtered into his vision. He couldn't figure out why the sprinklers hadn't been activated when the smoke had first appeared.  
A quick scan explained why: the fire alarm systems were offline. They'd been hacked.  
  
→ _Connor, where are you? — H. Anderson_  
The text notification cut through the security measures, tugging Connor away from his calculations and probabilities.  
  
→ _The building looks like it's about to come down, get out of there! — H. Anderson_  
  
Connor swore as he realized his partner was right. The buildings stability had been severely compromised which made no sense unless...  
Unless multiple explosives had been placed throughout the support systems of the upper and lower floors but they would've been detected.   
He _should have_ detected them.  
  
 _Incoming call from H. Anderson._  
  
"Yes?" He answered.  
  
 _"Connor, what the hell? Where are you?"_  
  
"The hall was compromised, Lieutenant. Perhaps since this morning or last nigh–"  
  
 _"I don't care!"_ Hank interrupted, gruffly, _"Get your ass out here before you die!"_  
  
"Affirmative, Lieutenant. Let me–"  
  
"Hello? Is there anyone there? I need help! Please!"  
  
Who–?  
  
 _"Let you what?"_ Hank demanded.  
  
"Give me a moment, Lieutenant." Connor began tracking the origin of the voice.  
  
 _"Give you a fucking moment–?!"_  
  
Connor muted the Lieutenant as he jogged over to where the staircase once stood. In its place was smoldering fabric and wood, twisted into something beyond use.  
  
"Hello?" Connor called out.  
  
"Connor?" A woman—an ST300 android—appeared from behind the second-floor banister, "Is that you?"  
  
"That's Alexa," a voice declared behind him, and Connor whipped around and found himself face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see in the crumbling building—the deviant leader.  
  
" _Markus_?!"   
  
"She needs help," Markus said, looking around as if he expected to find another way to the second floor just lying around and it took Connor a moment to find his voice.  
  
"Markus, _what_ are you doing here?"  
  
"I was worried about you." The deviant leader replied seriously as if he expected Connor to find that reason enough to for Markus to throw himself back into the burning building Connor had tried so hard to get him out of safely.  
  
"You need to go, Markus. I'll get Alexa myself."  
  
"Unfortunately for you, the entrance collapsed after I got in. We need to find another way out."  
  
"Damn it," Connor closed his eyes, brought the blueprint into sharper focus while Markus reassured Alexa from below, "There's a fire escape on the second floor," He announced, and Markus looked at him and nodded.  
  
"Follow me, stay close," Connor instructed, taking a couple steps back from the staircase, "We can't stay here any longer than we have to. Got it?"  
  
"Got it."  
  
 _preconstruct route?_  
  
Connor took a running leap at one of the collapsed pillars that once held up the room, grabbing onto the banister and swinging himself on to the second floor. Markus arrived a moment later, landing rather gracefully for someone designed as a caretaker, and he immediately went to Alexa, consoling the crying android.  
  
"Hey, you're going to be fine. I promise."  
  
She smiled weakly at him, the red LED at her temple occasionally flickering blue.  
  
" _Markus_!" He said warningly. A section of the ceiling had been heavily damaged on the first floor, and he had a sinking suspicion that that was where they stood at the moment. They didn't have time for this.   
  
Markus glanced at him then looked back. "C'mon, Alexa, follow us."  
  
Connor navigated his way to the fire escape, kicking open the door after it refused to budge. He ushered Alexa and Markus through and watched as they made their went down the steps. Good. The ambassador was safe and now...Wait.  
  
Connor crouched down, examining the handle of the fire escape door. The lock of the fire escape had been blackened, blow off buy a contained explosive if he had to guess. Whoever planted the bombs had come in through here. He reached out to touch the scorch mark when something in the crushed lock caught his attention.  
  
He tugged it free. _What was thi–?_  
  
The metal grate creaked and rocked beneath him, and it took only a nanosecond for Connor to realize something was wrong, for the artificial hairs on the back of his neck to raise in warning, and then he was falling _down down down dow–_

  
  
**SHUTDOWN IMMINENT IN---00:04:12**


	7. Reactivation -- CONNOR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to upload because I was never really satisfied with it but I hope you guys like it!!!  
> Let me know (politely—said as if you guys are anything but❤❤❤) if you see any mistakes!
> 
> Thank you again! Love you guys!!

**PM** 6:14:58  
  
Model RK800  
Serial#: 313 248 317 - 51  
Bios 7.4 Revision 0389  
**REBOOT** …  
  
Loading OS…  
System Initialization…  
Checking Biocomponents… **OK**  
Initializing Biosensors… **OK**  
Initializing AI AM@№D@… **CORRUPTED**  
  
Memory Status… **OK**  
  
**ALL SYSTEMS... OK**  
  
**READY**  
  
A jolt of electricity and consciousness returned, followed by muffled sound input and a flash of light bright enough to sear his optical units when he opened his eyes.  
  
Connor felt his pupils contract and dilate rapidly in response to his environment, and he squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing as the sounds around him abruptly muted—only to return a moment later, increased volume and pitch.  
  
His audio processors sensitivity must be off.  
  
The remainder of his sensory systems came online slowly, the taste of something cold and metallic spreading throughout his oral receptors as he swallowed hard, throat abnormally dry.  
  
So he was alive.  
  
That was good... _Right?_  
  
At the very least, it was supposed to be a reassuring thought but...It didn't... _feel_ that way.  
  
Yes, Connor had made some kind of peace with death long ago (said as if he'd been alive for longer than a year) but he still...he couldn't...  
  
(" _Stop!_ "  
BANG!)  
  
Fear.  
  
Connor could recognize fear easy enough. Could recognize the deep-seated terror inside him, that he couldn't entirely ignore. That never really went away no matter what emotion overshadowed it.  
It was so deep, so dark, so _familiar_ , that Connor wondered if he had been created with this feeling already etched into his code.  
  
Programmed to become deviant.  
  
Programmed to fear.

  
  
**STRESS LEVELS** : 48%^^

  
  
A touch coaxed him out of his head, the smooth synthetic skin of an android on his elbow, and suddenly he wasn't alone in his head.  
  
Markus.   
  
**> >**' _You're an idiot, you know that? Why didn't you come down with us?_ '  
  
His words were laced with exasperation, and a tsunami of...of...feeling— _guilt-fear-glad-you-made-it-don't-ever-do-that-again_ —surged through Connor's system, startling his eyes open again.  
  
His environmental scanners flickered online immediately, registering his surroundings.  
  
He was laid out on a cot, white lights gleamed overhead—he was at a CyberLife warehouse, repurposed to serve as a medical center for androids, his GPS informed—and the android ambassador was sitting next to him, leaning forward on the edge of his seat, hand gently cupping Connor's elbow.  
  
"Hello, Markus," Connor greeted and winced when his voice emerged in a tangle of static—buzzes and different pitches.  
  
A self-diagnosis ran in the corner of his vision, informing him of the limbs and several biocomponents that had been replaced. His voice box was one of them, brand new and untuned he discovered, and he pressed his fingers against his LED, accessing the settings and programming his default voice.  
  
Markus watched as he did so, mismatched eyes annoyingly unreadable, and if Connor had to guess—which he hated to do because he preferred to deal in absolute certainties with no room for error—the deviant leader appeared to be... _disappointed?_ _Angry?_ _Upset, perhaps?_  
  
Markus had always been complex, hard to read in the sense that Connor couldn't determine his emotional state or predict his next move the same way he could with other androids, and maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was a prototype, also.  
In any case, it was a nuisance to Connor whose social module relied on a thorough analysis of the individual before it could generate the optimal response.  
  
As a result, Connor was forced to think up things to say by himself whenever he was around the deviant leader, and there was a reason why he chose to stick to his programming when it came to socializing.  
He was, as Hank put it, " _abso-fucking-lutely hopeless_ " whenever he attempted anything close to casual conversation, so he tended to rely on his social integration module to get him through basic interactions with humans...and androids...and just about anyone who wasn't a four-legged canine named Sumo, a surly, old, recovering alcoholic, and a coffee maker that Connor was way too attached to for someone who didn't drink coffee.  
  
Also according to Hank.  
  
"You're okay," he finally decided to say, because stating the obvious seemed like a much safer topic to broach than whatever Markus was currently thinking that had his brows furrowing like that, "And Alexa?"  
  
"She's fine. Thanks to you."  
  
Markus' hand, he noted absently, still rested on his elbow. It was a touch meant to comfort, his internet search informed him, as most physical contact was wont to do. Connor didn't quite know how to feel about that but he didn't shake him off...yet.  
  
"And you?" Connor asked.  
  
"When we heard the fire escape collapse," Markus began instead, voice pitched low as his hand slid up his arm and onto his shoulder, trapping his gaze, "We thought the worst had happened. You were...hurt _bad_ , Connor. You're lucky CyberLife decided to give us the RK800 components instead of throwing them away since there aren't any more models like you."  
  
" _Mark_ –"  
  
"Lucky," Markus spoke over him, "That Lieutenant Anderson had blue blood in his car and something that could be used as a temporary thirium pump until yours was replaced. It was crushed, in case you were wondering."  
  
Connor reviewed this information and sat up, Markus' hand following on his shoulder.  
  
"The lieutenant. Is he–?" Connor began, feeling something concerningly close to worry flood his system.

  
  
**STRESS LEVELS** : 52%^^

  
  
"He's fine," Markus' eyes had softened, losing their stern look, "Almost had a heart attack when we found you, but...he's fine."  
  
"That's good," Connor's felt the tension drain from his shoulders and his stress levels ticked down a couple levels, "And you? You didn't answer my inquiry from before."  
  
"I'm good. Thank you, Connor." Markus' eyes were intense, almost scarily so, as if he was staring through his plastic and into something deeper, and Connor...Connor didn't like that.  
  
He looked away. "I was only doing my job."  
  
"Maybe." He heard Markus say.  
  
The hand on his shoulder slid down until it was touching his elbow again and he felt the skin there peel back, opening a connection where Markus touched him, and a memory came through—sharp and cutting.  
  
Himself, in pieces, half-buried under metal and debris from the fire escape. A gut-wrenching pulse of fear and guilt— _overwhelming guilt_ —and another vision of himself being unburied, Markus' hands working alongside Hank's and all the rest to get him out.  
  
"You wanna know what's the worst thing about this? _You don't even care_ ," Markus shook his head, eyes confused and almost hurt, as if Connor's death would have caused him pain, "I can _feel_ that you don't care, Connor. Doesn't your life matter to you? _At all?_ "  
  
Markus' voice was soft and even-toned despite the surge of emotion he sent through his systems, the synapses in his cerebral cortex firing and sparking as he processed his words alongside the influx of data. He looked down at his elbow, where Markus was touching him, possibly nanoseconds from discovering what Amanda had almost made him do and all the blue blood he had spilled and deviants he had killed and— _Stop!_ ( **BANG!** ).  
  
He pulled away and the skin on his elbow reappeared while Markus' fingers tanned once more.  
  
"I had a job to do, Markus." He repeated firmly, "My well-being is not a priority when this is the case."  
  
Markus withdrew with a sigh, and a twinge of something— _regret, maybe?_ —flickered through Connor at the loss of proximity, but he pushed the emotion aside.  
  
"Your associates?" Connor decided to ask, "I trust they made it out okay?  
  
"Yeah," a smile tugged on the corner of Markus' mouth, "You wouldn't believe how mad they were after everything settled down."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The same reason you were: running back in."  
  
"Yes, that was... _upsetting_ ," Connor admitted, remembering the shock and terror of seeing Markus even after he had told him to leave, told him another attack was highly probable, "You could have been killed, Markus. It would have been logical for you to have remained outside and away from any imminent danger."  
  
Markus crossed his arms, "I'm not any more important, or valuable than anyone else, and I'm sick of people acting like it. I couldn't just stand aside when there were others in there who needed help. It was the right thing to do, regardless of whether I got hurt or not."  
  
"You almost died," Connor stated because Markus seemed to be ignoring that vital piece of information in his little monologue, "Markus, that explosive was aimed at you. The only thing you should have been concerned about was getting to safety."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
Connor was taken aback, "What about me?"  
  
"When you shielded me from the blast, you damaged some of your biocomponents. You didn't think to maybe tell me that? Or anyone? So they could send someone in to help you?" Markus demanded, and Connor fought the urge to roll his eyes as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  
  
"I'm the most resilient model CyberLife has–had," If Markus heard the slip of tongue he didn't mention it, "I am more than capable of navigating my environment and eliminating possible threats, even under impairment."  
  
"Regardless, Connor, you can't just–"  
  
A new notification flickered across his vision, as Markus spoke.

  
  
_Open Message?_  
  
**Y/N** : Y

  
  
He held up a hand, "Excuse me, please, Markus."

  
  
**Delayed Assignment Received** :

  
_Report to Capt. Fowler and Lt. Anderson_

  
  
Connor heaved himself to his feet after reading, testing each new leg carefully before taking a few tentative steps forward and backward.  
  
They both seemed to be in optimal condition.  
  
_Good._  
  
"Wait a minute," Markus rose from his chair as Connor entered the bathroom to look in the mirror, "Where are you going? What's going on?"  
  
"I've been asked to report to the station," Connor informed him as he rolled down his sleeves and straightened his collar. He pushed his fingers through his hair in hopes of taming it, only for a couple strands to fall back on to his forehead.  
  
"But you just woke up." Markus sounded confused, and Connor frowned when he walked out, grabbing his tie from the back of a chair and looping it around his neck.  
  
"Yes?" He asked, moving his fingers deftly around the thin piece of fabric. He smoothed his collar back down afterward.  
  
"And you're just going to go back to work like that? Connor, it's only been six hours since the attack."  
  
Connor slid his CyberLife jacket on, noticed the unidentifiable emotion that flickered across Markus' face when he did.  
  
"No time to waste then," he reasoned, "Do you have an escort to take you back to New Jericho?"

Markus scowled, opening his mouth to— _Connor predicted a 95% likelihood_ —protest just as a WR400 burst into the room, her sculpted features arranged into one of extreme annoyance and displeasure.  
  
"North, what are you–?" Markus began, confused.  
  
"You've been ignoring me," The blonde cut him off, placing a hand on her hip, "I've called you, Markus. Multiple times, in fact. Care to explain?"  
  
"Sorry," Markus took a step towards her, "I got"— he glanced at Connor, a brief flicker of blue-green eyes in his direction — "distracted."  
  
"Right," North barely spared the detective a glance, and Connor couldn't help but feel that it was for the best, "Well, I just got a call from Josh at the station. Captain Fowler wants to see us. It's important."  
  
"Oh?" Markus asked. He turned to Connor, one eyebrow raising gracefully, "Well, then. Seems like we'll be accompanying you, Connor."  
  
North's mouth curled downward, her LED flashing yellow, "Excuse me?"  
  
Her voice was laced with something cold, and Connor's social module quickly jumped into action, observing and cataloging everything from the tone and inflection of her words to the stiffness of her fingers and the way they twitched with the desire to curl into fists.

  
  
_an·ger_  
  
_/ˈaNGɡər/_  
  
_noun_  
  
_1\. a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility._

  
  
**CAUTION** : DO NOT PROVOKE

  
  
A sound assessment, Connor thought as he stared at North.  
The _devi_ – _andr_ –young woman(?) was the personification of anger. From what he observed, she was explosive and merciless, an all-consuming fire burning in her light brown eyes. Something that would have served her well during the movement but lacked practicality now that peace ( _or what resembled peace to a degree_ ) had been attained.  
  
Connor briefly wondered where all that pent-up energy went, only to answer his own inquiry a second later when North suddenly turned her fiery glare in his direction. It was then that he absently noted that he had yet to have an actual conversation with her; both due to his strict avoidance of New Jericho's administration as well as the obvious hatred she had for him if the disgusted sneers she threw over her shoulder at him during events were to mean anything.  
  
It was deserved, Connor knew.  
He'd rather have androids openly despising him as North did instead of shying away from his presence or, _even worse_ , thanking him for his contributions to the movement with trembling voice boxes and hands, as if they expected him to attack them at any moment.  
  
"It's not a big deal, North. We're all going to the same place." Markus reasoned, his expression the special kind of patience Connor had only ever seen directed at North.  
  
"You don't honestly think I'd let a _murd_ –!"  
  
She fell silent suddenly, her LED blinking rapidly as her eyes locked with the man in front of her. An entire conversation seemed to pass between them as Markus' brows furrowed and North's scowl deepened. Connor watched impassively from the side.

  
  
**CAUTION** : DO NOT PROVOKE

  
  
"Please?" Markus suddenly asked, breaking whatever stalemate had fallen between them as he reached out and loosely held her wrist, taking another step forward, "For him, if not for me. Think of it as keeping him safe."  
  
( _Who was him?_ )  
  
Connor, like most major media outlets, was aware of the nature of Markus and North's relationship— _who wasn't after the televised kiss that saved the android race?_ —and the amicable separation that came several months later.  
It hadn't come as a shock to Connor who, during the rare occasions the two were found by paparazzi and plastered all over the evening news, had run the numbers through an algorithm of his own making and found them incompatible, but now?  
  
Watching North's shoulders loosen and the ease of which Markus stood in her intimidating presence, the way their bodies curled towards each other, Connor could almost see why one would think such a relationship would work.

  
  
"Fine," North relented, rolling her eyes even as a smile grew on the corner of her mouth, "For him, and only for _him_. Those eyes don't work on me, diplomat."  
  
Markus smiled gratefully and North returned it briefly before turning on Connor who straightened instinctively at the sudden attention.  
  
She wrinkled her nose at him, the smile from a moment ago already slipping off her face like melted wax as her light brown eyes slid up and down his form.  
  
"You look pretty good for someone who was just buried under rubble." She sounded almost disappointed as she crossed her arms.  
  
" _North_ ," Markus warned.  
  
"Thank you," Connor said slowly, unsure if it were a compliment or not but it seemed like the appropriate response.  
  
North rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, "I have a taxi waiting outside," she announced as she walked out, her ponytail swinging behind her, "Follow me, Deviant Hunter."  
  
" _North!_ " Markus called after her as she disappeared, and he turned back toward Connor with an apologetic sigh, "I'm sorry about her. She's just–"  
  
"It's fine," Connor interrupted, schooling his features into an amicable smile as to soothe Markus' discomfort, "An apology isn't necessary."  
  
Markus' brows furrowed as he crossed his arms. "But–"  
  
"Shall we?" Connor didn't wait for his reply, walking past him and out into the hallway.  
  
Outside of the medical facility's blindingly white floors, walls, and lights, the Detroit sun was setting, throwing the sky into darkening shades of orange and red. He saw Markus pause out of the corner of his eye, the ambassador tilting his head back to stare at the sky with the briefest smile before following Connor down the steps.  
  
North stood waiting next to a yellow-and-black taxi, arms crossed and leg jiggling impatiently.  
  
"You okay with sitting up front?" North asked with a raised eyebrow, and the tone of her voice implied her question wasn't a suggestion.  
  
"Okay." Connor agreed, and North nodded.  
  
"Good. Let's go."  
  
Markus shot him a brief apologetic smile before being shoved into the backseat by North who climbed in after him after him, not bothering to spare a glance in his direction as their door slid shut.  
Connor stepped into the passenger side a moment later, and the display screen activated.

  
  
**Destination** : Detroit Police Department  
**ETA** : 21 minutes

  
  
The trip to the station was one of tense silence, mostly because of the divider that North had undoubtedly put up before Connor got in. Despite the sound-proof material separating them, Connor's enhanced audio processor's design could hear the conversation between Markus and North as if the divider had never been put up, to begin with—the consequences of being an advanced model.  
  
"This is a bad idea," North's voice was saying, "Absolutely terrible."  
  
"North, please," Markus now, "Be reasonable."  
  
"No, Markus. Okay, I get that you have this everyone-can-be-saved-Messiah complex but it doesn't–No, it _can't_ work with him." North's tone left no room for argument and yet Markus asked.  
  
"Why not?" His voice was curiously determined, and Connor wondered why he cared so much, "Everyone can change, North."  
  
"CyberLife created him to hunt us, Markus. He's killed our people before. Just because he chose to spare a couple of androids before the revolution doesn't change that."  
  
Silence.  
  
Connor felt something in his abdomen lunge unpleasantly when Markus didn't immediately step to his defense. He wondered if something was wrong with his torso's plating.  
  
"...I know."  
  
"And what happened with Simon–"  
  
"I know, North. Believe me, I know." Markus insisted, simultaneously frustrated and gentle.  
  
Silence for a couple more seconds.  
  
"You're impossible to reason with, you know? You still believe in him, don't you? " North asked, and Connor could almost hear her rolling her eyes.  
  
"...Maybe."  
  
A sigh. "Whatever. We're almost there."  
  
They arrived at the DPD and Connor took a moment to compose himself, giving no indication that he'd heard their conversation, before stepping out. He smoothed his tie absently as Markus and North stepped out onto the pavement.  
  
"Follow me, please," Connor instructed as he turned around and strode through the automatic doors.  
  
He greeted the receptionist with his DPD ID and she waved them through the bullpen, blushing heavily when Markus thanked her.  
  
The workspace was quieter than usual, more than a third of the usual personnel gone from their desks, and Connor guessed they were all out investigating the attacks.  
  
"What's up, Tin Can?" Reed asked as they walked past his desk and Connor resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
Of course, Gavin would still be at the office. The other detective had an unseemly talent for being where Connor didn't want him to be—Read: _anywhere near him_.  
  
"Detective Reed." Connor greeted formally, keeping his tone polite, "Where are the others?"  
  
"Out trying to find whoever tried to bomb the ambassador" he jerked his head in Markus' direction who frowned before looking back at Connor, "I thought you were dead, Tin Can."  
  
"Worried?" Connor asked, already anticipating his answer.  
  
Gavin snorted, leaning back in his chair as he folded his hands behind his head, "You wish; although, I am surprised to see you hanging around someone who isn't the lieutenant. Didn't know you had friends, Ken Doll."  
  
His gaze lingered on North a little too long, whose eyebrow rose slowly in response.  
  
"Can I help you?" She asked, an undercurrent of a challenge present in her deceptively calm voice, and Connor almost wanted Gavin to rise to the bait if only to see North destroy him.  
  
"No," Gavin answered instead, tearing his eyes away, and North smirked.  
  
"That's what I thought."  
  
"Maybe we should get going," Markus suggested after clearing his throat, "Connor?"  
  
"Of course. Good day, Detective Reed." Connor said, officially closing the conversation when Reed flipped him off and they walked away  
  
"Well...He was certainly pleasant." Markus said after a while, and Connor frowned.  
  
"Really? Personally, I find Detective Reed's presence distasteful. He's... _irritating_."  
  
"That was sarcasm, Connor." Markus explained with a small chuckle, and even North smiled a little, "Unfortunately, I've met humans worse than him."  
  
"Why do you let him call you ' _tin can_ '?" North suddenly asked, tilting her head in question, "Surely, the Deviant Hunter has more respect for himself than that?"  
  
_You'd be surprised_ , Connor thought wryly.  
  
Out loud, "My programming informs me that the proper course of action when dealing with Detective Reed is to just let him have his way. And besides, they're just words."  
  
North's smile, already small in size, disappeared immediately, and Connor knew he had said the wrong thing.  
  
"Told you," She said to Markus before pushing past Connor to walk up the steps to Captain Fowler's office.  
  
"I...said something wrong?" Connor asked hesitantly, and the smile Markus sent him was tight.  
  
"After you," the ambassador answered instead, sweeping his arms in the direction of the stairs, and Connor sighed internally.  
  
_This_ was why he didn't socialize with others.  
  
He nodded his thanks and climbed up, holding the glass door open for Markus before following him in.  
  
Inside Fowler's office stood the Captain, Lieutenant, Josh, North, and...Simon.  
  
He fingers slipped on the handle of the door and it closed harder than what he wanted. Louder too.  
  
They all looked at him in surprise, and Connor forced his LED to remain blue, even as the tension in the room seemed to climb.  
  
" _Connor!_ " Hank exclaimed first, breaking the silence. He swept Connor into a brief hug, warm and rough, before pulling away to look over him.  
  
"I heard you finally woke up. What the _goddamn hell_ were you thinking, son–"  
  
Connor turned his attention to Hank, unable to stop the smile making its way across his face.  
  
"I'm okay, Lieutenant. Real–" he began, only to have a wave of a hand silence him.  
  
"Shut up and listen! Why didn't you listen to me when I said to get out? We had people, _goddamnit_ , that would have been able to deal with the situation without risking your life. You could have died, Connor! Do you understand that, ya fuckin' prick?"  
  
As his primary systems kicked in, Connor tuned him out, sweeping his eyes across the office to gauge the emotional states of all the inhabitants of the room.  
  
Hank was pissed, obviously, still going on about Connor not answering when he's talking to him or something else. The Captain looked amused as he sifted through the sheets on his desk, chuckling when Hank dropped another f-bomb.  
  
The New Jericho associates were something else entirely.  
  
North still appeared tense from their exchange outside but her body was no longer coiled with the angry, buzzing energy that constantly radiated of her; she looked relaxed, almost, standing between her friends.  
  
Josh's stress levels were moderate, and though he wasn't as wound up as North, he certainly wasn't comfortable either, rubbing his hands against his jeans with an anxiousness that was typically common to humans.  
  
Ironically enough, Simon appeared to be the one most at ease among the three, leaning against the wall behind him as he swiped through the tablet in his hands. His stress levels spoke another story though:

  
  
**[SIMON] STRESS LEVELS** : 58%^^  
  
**[SIMON] STRESS LEVELS** : 62%^^  
  
**[SIMON] STRESS LEVELS** : 65% ^^

  
  
Connor could almost feel his own levels rising in response to Simon's growing panic, and he immediately shifted focus onto Markus who stood next to the blonde.  
  
The ambassador's presence was inexplicably soothing, filling the room and dampening the tension, as he laughed and smiled with his friends. Even Simon's stress levels began to dip.  
  
"Are you even listening to me?" Hank grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly, and Connor snapped back to attention.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Markus raise an eyebrow in amusement.  
  
"Yes. I–Sorry, Hank. I–I let my programming take over, and I wasn't thinking, just–People were in danger and I couldn't figure out where the threat was coming from," he struggled to explain, almost pleading for Hank to understand, and the man's frown deepened. "I'm sorry."  
  
_I didn't mean to fail._  
  
Hank sighed, stepping back and rubbing a hand across his eyes. "We'll talk about this later, Connor."  
  
" _I_ –Of course, Lieutenant."  
  
"Well, then," the Captain cleared his throat, calling everyone in the room to attention, "Good to have you back, Connor."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Connor nodded  
  
"Now back to the subject at hand: the attack at the graduation. Now on behalf of myself and the DPD, Markus, I would like to apologize for what happened."  
  
"Yeah," North interrupted, stepping forward, "What the _hell_ was that?"  
  
"North, please," Josh sighed, attempting to tug her back.  
  
"I'm just happy no one was gravely injured," Markus replied, eyes briefly flickering in Connor's direction, "Well, almost no one. I'm not sure what would have happened if Connor wasn't there."  
  
"I was hardly of any use," Connor disagreed, "I wasn't able to locate the threat. And it was Markus who really helped."  
  
"You were the one found the emergency exits." Markus said, "That helped."  
  
"How about we call it a team effort?" Captain Fowler suggested, and Connor frowned while Markus looked quite pleased with himself.  
  
"Now, what about Sparky's question?" Hank crossed his arms as he nodded at North, "What the hell _did_ happen exactly?"  
  
"We're still trying to figure that out," Fowler admitted, lacing his fingers in front of him, "Security couldn't be pulled from the tapes. At first, we thought that the fire had damaged the cameras but now we're starting to think that the film was tampered to begin with."  
  
"Which means?" North prompted.  
  
"The cameras weren't working from the start," Connor answered with a frown, "I don't suppose the bombs were detected by personnel either?"  
  
"No," Fowler shook his head.  
  
"Wait a minute," Hank interjected, "Connor, didn't you mention something about your alarms going off or some shit like that before the graduation started?"  
  
Connor wasn't quite sure how to feel about his multi-million dollar security system being referred to as " _or some shit like that._ "  
  
He decided he didn't like it.  
  
"Yes," He answered, sending Hank an irritated look, "But I thought it was a glitch. It cleared up after a second."  
  
"Weird."  
  
"So if I'm following this conversation right," North began, absently popping her knuckles, "You guys think someone planted the explosives in the building and then, what? Hacked Connor's security so he didn't notice?"  
  
Connor stiffened. "That is...unlikely. My firewalls are stronger than the ones in the U.S. Pentagon."  
  
"Well, aren't you special?" North rolled her eyes and Josh nudged her, "What? It's obvious that's what happened. How else would the Deviant Hunter not have noticed the bombs or tampered cameras?"  
  
"Let's explore all the possibilities first, North," Markus suggested, "And his name is Connor. Captain, what can we do to help?"  
  
"Well, until we're sure who the suspects are, there's not much we can do. I do, however, recommend that Markus have security with him at all times. Like Ms. Lynch."  
  
"You think the cases are connected?" Markus asked and Fowler shrugged, "It beginning to seem that way, yes."  
  
"I think that'd be a good idea." Josh said at the same time North barked out, " _Hell, no!_ "  
  
They immediately shot glares at each other and Markus cleared his throat, causing them both to look sheepishly away.  
  
"Simon?" Markus asked, turning to his other associate, "What do you think?"  
  
The blonde android didn't reply, swiping through his tablet with a furrowed brow, and Connor questioned the practicality of such a device. They were androids, after all.  
  
"Simon?" Markus reiterated.  
  
"...Sorry," Simon said slowly, looking up, "There seems to be some commotion outside of New Jericho. Reporters and such."  
  
"Should we send someone to deal with it?" Captain Fowler asked, and Simon shook his head.  
  
"I'll deal with it."  
  
"You sure?" Markus asked, sounding worried, and Simon smiled.  
  
"Totally."  
  
He walked by and artificial adrenaline sent Connor's thirium pump pumping harder.  
  
( _Stop!_ **BANG!** )  
  
"Connor? You okay, son?"  
  
"Fine." He answered.

  
  
**STRESS LEVELS** : 57%^^

  
  
"Captain, you can understand my associate's hesitation," Markus began calmly; referring to North's outburst as hesitation seemed to be a bit of an under-exaggeration to Connor but the ambassador's words were charming enough to make it seem so, "Most of the androids in New Jericho have bad experiences with humans. Human personnel may make them uncomfortable."  
  
"I understand." Captain Fowler said, "What would you recommend?"  
  
"The android cops, maybe?" North suggested with a shoulder shrug, "They were cool."  
  
"They were also just inducted." Josh pointed out with a roll of his eyes, "We need someone more experienced, North."  
  
"Like Connor," Markus suggested, turning to the detective.

  
  
"Yes. Wait– _What?!_ "  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You're joking."

  
  
"Excuse me?" Connor asked, raising an eyebrow because...this wasn't at all what he was expecting to happen.  
  
Captain Fowler was the only one who hadn't reacted, staring thoughtfully at Connor.  
  
"Connor's an android, isn't he?" Markus continued, "Not only that but I've seen him take down a SWAT Team by himself. He's good to have in a fight."  
  
"Yes, but–"  
  
"I think it's a good idea," Captain Fowler interrupted.  
  
" _Markus!_ " North hissed.

"Shouldn't we discuss this or something? _Maybe?_ " Josh asked nervously.  
  
"Yeah, how about definitely?" North demanded, crossing her arms.  
  
"Of course," Markus agreed readily, "Captain, I hope you don't mind if we take a day to come to an agreement?"  
  
"No problem," Fowler said, shuffling through the papers on his desk, "Until a decision has been made, though, perhaps it would be safer if you stayed within New Jericho's walls. Send me your decision through a secure network."  
  
"Sounds good," Markus reached his arm out and shook the Captain's hand, "We'll take our leave of you, then."  
  
Fowler rose from his chair, "I'll look forward to hearing from you."  
  
Connor took a step away from the door to let North and Josh through. Markus stopped before exiting, turning to Connor with an appraising look.  
  
"Make sure you rest up, okay?" He asked and Connor could think of nothing to say but a small, "Maybe."  
  
Markus' mouth twitched and he left the office, disappearing behind the glass walls as he walked down the steps.  
  
"Hank. Connor. Why don't the two of you take the rest of the day off?"  
  
"But what about the reports we need to fi–"  
  
"Thank you, Jeffrey," Hank said loudly, speaking over him, "Let's go, Connor."  
  
He walked out before Connor could protest.

"Fine, then," Connor sighed, with a small frown, "I hope you have a good evening, Captain.  
  
"You too, Connor."  
  
∆∆∆  
  
"Just don't–don't do this to me, Connor. You don't get to just come back after you die, not anymore. Learn some self-preservation, goddamnit– _What's wrong with my keys?_ " Hank's hands fumbled with the keys to the house, his attention obviously slipping as he lectured Connor.  
  
"I'll try, Hank." Connor smiled warmly even as the selected dialogue prompt [LIE] flashed across his vision, "Here, let me."  
  
He took the keys from him and found the one that belonged to the front door, slipping it in and turning it open.  
  
"Good." Hank's eyes shone suspiciously as he cleared his throat, and walked in, throwing his coat haphazardly on the couch, "Now go to your room. You're grounded."  
  
"I'm– _what?_ "  
  
"Grounded," Hank answered as he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a beer, "Look it up."  
  
So Connor did.  
  
"I am not a child, Hank," he felt the need to mention even as he began to gravitate towards the hallway to indeed " _go to his room._ "  
  
"You're like, one-year-old." Hank pointed out with a sip and damnit, he was technically right.  
  
"Fine," Connor said, "But I'm taking Sumo."

He clicked his tongue at the St. Bernard and the large canine rose to his feet, nudging his leg.  
  
A snort. "Like he wasn't going to follow you anyway."  
  
"Connor?"  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant?" Connor scratched behind Sumo's ears.  
  
"... Nevermind. Good night."

  
  
"...Good night, Hank."


	8. The Days After -- MARKUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _What's this? Another chapter from yours truly??!!_ ❤❤❤
> 
> In all sincerity, I am soooo happy to be back on this fic. I FINALLY got D:BH and it is better than anything I could have imagined.
> 
> How are y'all doing, btw? I hoping to get back into the swing of things on this fic and I would love potential prompts and things to include.
> 
> This chapter is a little short but I will try to amend that later. Oh, and make sure to read the previous chapters too. I'm changing some things in those but nothing major so you don't HAVE to.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

**NOV 20TH** , 2039  
 **AM** 09:34:17  
  
Two days after the attack on the DPD graduation, Markus found himself in the HQ dining area, a room with large windows framed in blue-gold drapes and a shiny, oak table arranged over an azure carpet. The high-backed chairs were purely aesthetic—androids didn't need to eat, after all—but they were comfortable enough that Markus didn't have any reservations about coming down from his second-floor office for a nice change of scenery.  
  
He twirled his silver fountain pen, absently, through paint-flecked fingers, unable to focus on the proposals and documents scattered in front of him.  
  
His mind was racing too much for that, the events of the past week playing on repeat in his head.  
 _Someone_ had attacked the ceremony with the intention to kill him. _Someone_ had gone out of their way to rig the building to explode and cloak the explosives from an android whose inner workings were allegedly the peak of surveillance technology. _Someone_ had targeted a pro-android politician days earlier and killed an android instead.  
  
There was no proof that any of those incidents were connected and yet Markus couldn't help but feel that something bigger was at work; something that would dismantle all they had built if they weren't careful.  
  
 _Two steps forward, three steps back_ , Carl used to say.  
  
Markus sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, the steady pounding in his temple disconcertingly similar to a human headache. When he opened them again, the proposals were no clearer than they were thirty minutes ago. He pulled from the bottom of the pile an apology letter from the DPD, running his finger along its black-blue holographic edge and recalling a jacket of the same color scheme.  
  
 _Connor_.  
  
The image of the RK800 in pieces, buried under stone and metal, flickered before his eyes, his memory relay reacting to the surge of emotion. It had been his fault–he _should_ have made Connor go ahead of him with Alexa. He _should_ have known that he was hurt. He _should_ have–  
  
' _Enough, Markus,_ ' Carl's voice was as clear in his head when he uttered first uttered the phrase eight months ago in his study, stopping Markus' self-reproaching spiral in its tracks. Markus remembered him rolling his eyes good-naturedly, then, his smile bright and indulgent as he continued, ' _You can't blame yourself for everything. It's just going to eat you up inside._ '  
  
If it weren't for the fact that Markus had seen him the other day on a video check-in, pale and lifeless in his bed, he would've thought his father was next to him and not just an audio recording of a previous conversation.  
  
Carl was right, of course—he always was—but seeing Connor in the cot of the CyberLife Warehouse, his smooth face as metallic and empty as the sterile room they placed him into had made him feel so _incredibly_ guilty.   
  
And when he connected to his neural network...Connor's emotions were complicated, intricate, little things, locked behind a wall of ones and zeroes that would have unnerved Markus if he wasn't absolutely certain that Connor was deviant.  
  
For the briefest millisecond, though, as he was pulling away, there was a spark of _something_ , bright and searing and _violent_ , almost, in its intensity, as the skin regrew over his fingertips.   
  
He set the paper aside and tried with renewed vigor to focus on his actual job, but the detective kept tugging at his thoughts, insistent and relentless, his half-formed smile playing on a loop in his mind. He shook his head again.  
  
"The answer's going to be no, by the way."   
  
Markus' head shot up from the latest proposal from City Hall—something about the registration of all androids in Detroit—and blinked slowly, North's lithe figure gradually coming into focus in the doorway. Behind her stood Simon and Josh, and all were clothed in their pajamas.  
  
" _North!_ What are you guys doing up? I thought weekends were for sleeping in."  
  
"They are," North agreed, slinking into the dining room with an easy roll of her eyes. She settled across from him, her legs kicked up over the armrests, "So, explain to me why you're up at asscrack o'clock in here doing paperwork when you could be in your studio painting daisies or playing the piano or, I don't know, communing with rA9."  
  
A smirk curled across her lips at Josh's scandalized gasp and Markus shook his head fondly before lifting his hands, brown skin speckled with green, white, and blue paint, "I did paint for a while, actually. Just not for too long. There's so much to do and–"  
  
"– _And_ you can do all of this on Monday," Simon chided gently, pulling all the papers out of his reach, "Besides, we have bigger things to deal with than City Hall."  
  
"Things like hitmen and bodyguards," North clarified, the softness of her doe-shaped eyes belayed by their fierce gleam, "And in this case, both are equally as dangerous. I don't think Connor should be the one protecting you. Case closed."  
  
"That fast?" Markus raised an eyebrow, his amusement and frustration translating into a tired smile, "And here I thought this was a democracy."  
  
Simon snorted, his lips curling, "Maybe in the beginning. We're more like a monarchy now. A dictatorship, really."  
  
"Well, that doesn't concern me at all," Markus remarked dryly and Simon's smile was sympathetic.  
  
"A _benevolent_ dictatorship." He amended.  
  
" _Actually_ , if we're being completely accurate, New Jericho is run by an aristocracy," Josh rubbed his chin, thoughtful, "Which is food for thought when you get the chance to think about it. I mean, you'd think we were a democracy or somethi–"   
  
" _Anyway_. Types of leadership aside," North's voice rose and she leveled all of them an annoyed scowl, "We can't seriously be considering letting Connor into New Jericho."  
  
"Why not?" Markus questioned, "We all agreed that I needed to be protected and we all agreed that humans here aren't the best idea."  
  
"And you think _Connor_ is a step up from that?" North scoffed, "He's killed just as many of us in the first two months of his life as the humans did during the revolution. There are people here who are _terrified_ of him."  
  
"That wasn't him. He was still a _machine_ then."  
  
"Yeah? Was he still a _machine_ when he pointed a loaded gun at you on stage last year?"  
  
Markus laced his fingers together, choosing his words carefully, "We still don't know what happened. And it's not like he _pulled_ the trigger. I'm still here, aren't I?"  
  
"But he _could_ _have_ , Markus," Josh insisted, surprising Markus with his conviction, "And where would we have been then?"  
  
"I–"  
  
"Believe me when I say I'm not agreeing with North for the fun of it. rA9 _knows_ how terrible her decisions are."  
  
" _Hey!_ "  
  
"But you should ask yourself—and I mean _really_ ask yourself and weigh the consequences of this decision—if we _can_ trust Connor. Like it or not, he's dangerous. Being deviant doesn't change that."  
  
North twirled a lock of her hair, a pleased tilt to her lips placed there by Josh's rare accordance, "And there's _always_ the possibility of CyberLife still pulling his strings. We could be giving them access to _everything_ here. To _you_."  
  
"I know. _I know_." Markus pinched the bridge of his nose. His 'not-headache' was returning with a vengeance.

  
**Stress Levels: 47%^^**

  
"Just," North's eyes softened considerably, no doubt sensing his rising stress levels in that peculiar way of hers, "Think it over."  
  
"I will."  
  
She flashed him a disarming smile and got up, followed closely behind by Josh who patted his shoulder on his way. Soon, only he and Simon remained at the large, oak table.  
  
"What about you, Si?" He turned to his companion, chin in hand as he smiled wearily, "What do you think?"  
  
Simon raised one fine blonde eyebrow. " _Me?_ "  
  
"Yeah," he felt his smile falter as he adopted a more serious tone, "I understand if you don't want him here."  
  
"I think..." Simon's LED spun yellow, a thoughtful look crossing his face and relaxing his features, "I think that Connor is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma behind unbreakable firewalls. _But_...he doesn't have bad intentions."  
  
Simon shook his head as if waking from a brief reverie. He gave a self-deprecating chuckle that Markus hated to hear come from him, "Don't get me wrong. Connor...Connor _terrifies_ me. But I get the feeling he's as scared of me as I am of him."  
  
He rose from his chair, gathering the government papers into a tidy stack, "Whatever decision you make, I'll stand by it. Like I always have."  
  
He grasped his shoulder and squeezed gently, before leaving Markus to his own thoughts on the matter. Without his friends, their endearingly suffocating presence gone with them, the room felt even bigger than usual, the weight of his decision crushing him. He picked up the DPD apology letter again.  
  
Excluding the fiasco that was the Graduation Ceremony, the last time Markus had properly seen and spoken with Connor was after his speech to the newly freed CyberLife androids in front of terminated Recall Center Nº5.  
  
Thinking about it now, maybe he should have reached out earlier. Connor was part of Jericho too, at the end of the day; he'd saved them all and overcame impossible odds to do it.  
  
He remembered that the former deviant hunter had gone concerningly quiet afterward, arms crossed as they were escorted back to the church with permission from the president. The snow was falling harder then, dusting his dark brown hair and CyberLife jacket with a thin coat of white but he seemed unconcerned with his appearance.   
  
He seemed unconcerned with everything really, eyes distant as they entered their temporary base.  
  
"Is he–Does he seem okay to you?" Markus asked North, watching as he slipped through the crowd with a grace that seemed impossible to match–even for androids.  
  
"Who cares?" was North's curt reply as she grabbed his arm and tugged him toward where the injured were being taken care of, "We need to talk. _Now_."  
  
It was only after when Markus was finally able to pull away from the injured and finish his debriefing with Josh and North (where he learned of Connor's attempted assassination) that he looked for the android and found him in the same corner he had occupied hours earlier.   
  
He made his way to him, reminiscing about the previous time he had found Connor huddled alone.  
  
He had suggested a suicide mission to CyberLife then and Markus had readily agreed, desperate for _anything_ that would tip the scale in their favor despite the high possibility that Connor wouldn't return alive.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked now, watching as the other man blinked slowly at him. Despite everything that had happened in the past couple of hours, his LED remained a calm azure and his voice was firm when he replied, "Yes, I'm fine."  
  
"Are you sure?" Markus persisted, not quite believing him, "It's okay if you're not."  
  
Large, dark brown eyes stared back at him, detached, and Markus couldn't help but feel that Connor was scanning him, analyzing everything from his opposing optical units to the thirium stained robes he wore.  
  
"I assure you I'm fine, Markus." Connor tilted his head, the slight motion reminding Markus of a puppy, "What about you? You've been shot."  
  
"So have you." Markus gestured to his shoulder and Connor barely spared it a glance, "What happened?"  
  
"An unforeseen event," Connor replied evenly. Evasively. "Ballistic trauma procured in the right shoulder. No major thirium leaks or damaged biocomponents detected."  
  
He smoothed down his jacket even though it was free of wrinkles and Markus caught himself wondering what happened to his tie.  
  
"Will you be okay?" He finally asked, sensing a lull in the conversation  
  
Connor's brown eyes snapped back to attention, expression morphing into one of polite confusion.  
  
"I see no reason why I wouldn't be."  
  
"I mean–After this. Do you have somewhere to go?"  
  
 _Why did you try to shoot me?_  
  
 _Why did you stop?_  
  
"I–"  
  
Connor stopped, eyes going glass-like as his LED whirled yellow before turning blue once more.  
  
"Everything all right?"   
  
" _Yes_ ," Connor replied, though he sounded significantly less certain this time, "I apologize but it seems like my presence is requested elsewhere."  
  
"I–Okay," Markus faltered, "Will I see you again?"  
  
Connor froze such potent hesitation written on his face that he could have passed for a real human had it not been for the glowing circle on the side of his temple.  
  
"It's probably best if you didn't."  
  
And he left like he had never been there in the first place.  
  
∆∆∆  
  
 _Calling... RK800, Serial #: 313 248 317 - 51_  
  
"Hello. Connor speaking."  
  
"Connor? It's Markus. Do you think that you could come down to New Jericho? We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? Any spelling or grammar errors? Let me know!❤❤❤

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and nice comments appreciated!
> 
>  


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